I Don’t Want to Write. Day 268.

I worked over nine hours today, starting at six, tappity tap tap. I finished up, showered, then ran to Piggly Wiggly (friendliest store in town).

The Jeep thermometer read 105 in the sun, but don’t worry, it’s only actually 97. We shopped for bananas, whole milk, honey, and merlot to name a couple items, then loaded up and drove back home.

Stepping out of the Jeep at home, the whooshing heat hit me. I began loading up the groceries into my arms, put them away in the house, made zucchini chocolate chip muffins and said, “I still have to write.”

If I didn’t commit to this daily writing practice, I would not write today. I needed this push.

I’ve seen a difference in my skill. I’m securing my own style like my voice and even my use of punctuation. Long-term repetitive habits lock in style and can even make the incorrect, correct.

For example, the old saying “I couldn’t care less” has been misused so many times in recent years when people say “I could care  less.” Because of this socially embraced, long-term use of the phrase, they’re both listed in dictionaries as equally acceptable.

(Exciting, I know.)

I do have a point and it’s that I’m tired, but I’m still writing. I have emails I want to tend to, grass that needs to be cut, and friends and family to check on, but . . . forward ever.