Tag Archives: Saturday

Consider yourself pestered…

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So the experts on how to do thing online seem to all be telling me that I should be pestering you at least once a day about buying a copy of the book. Cajoling your friends into giving you $2 at every opportunity strikes me as a little unseemly, though. I’ll try to limit the direct self promotion, at least here in the blog, to no more than once a week. With that being said, please consider yourself pestered about the high quality book that I have available for sale from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Smashwords. With that out of the way, we can get on to other topics and all feel better about ourselves.

With that, we’ve reached the point in the weekend where I find I have nothing really to discuss. Saturday is, as it often is with me, a function of routine. Trash went to the dump, I filled up the gas tank, I wanted to burn Walmart to the ground, and I looked around outside and realized that I’m going to have to start cutting grass sooner rather than later. Dull by most standards, I’m sure. I’ll get some laundry done, hopefully find enough muse to write a blog post and a few hundred words on another project. Again, nothing earth shaking. It’s been my experience that earth shaking isn’t everything is made up to be. Give me quiet, calm, and predictable any day of the week.

Spoke too soon…

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Last Saturday I commented on the more or less mundane weekend routine I like to slip into. As usual, life has conspired to turn me into a liar at the first available opportunity. Someone (I’m looking at you, Cait) bet me a chicken dinner that I couldn’t stay awake until midnight… which was summarily changed to 1:30 when I showed signs of getting it done. I might have seen the clock roll past 3AM before finally dropping off. It was a matter of principle, after all. Sadly, my internal clock doesn’t stand on principle so I was still wide awake at 7:30. That’s fine. I mean who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?

Fortunately, I managed to find the coffee without too much trouble and even got a roast in the crock pot (yeah, I don’t know when I’m going to get my chicken dinner prize). Winston decided it was a good morning to eat a bottle of hand sanitizer, so I’m keeping an eye on him, too. And the person who instigated this chain of events is still asleep. Somehow I thing I’m getting the short end of the bet-you-can’t-say-awake deal. It’s decidedly not a routine Saturday.

If anyone needs me, there’s a good chance I’ll be right here – asleep at the keyboard.

That’s what I call a Saturday…

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So yeah, the dogs are fed, the tortoise is fed, the laundry is mostly done, I managed to both write and edit a bit today, dinner is cooking away without any additional need for my attention, and Fox News is yammering away in the background. That’s what I call a Saturday. And I’m not sure if it’s impressive, depressive, or some combination of the two. If anyone needs me, I’ll pe selecting a something to watch for this weekend’s edition of Dinner and a Movie.

Morning…

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I try to block off weekend mornings to sit down and really focus on writing. It’s pretty much the only time of the week when I can get three or four hours uninterrupted to focus on a section that’s complicated or requires a lot of detail. Usually I can manage a couple of thousand words a day on Saturday and Sunday. Through the week, I’m lucky if I can squeeze in 500 somewhere between getting home from work, making dinner, and getting to bed at something like a reasonable hour. So yeah, I put a premium on my weekends not because I’m running off to some exciting locale, but because it’s when I feel like I’m doing my best work. In college, I did my best work in the dead of night. That’s when the words flowed best. Now that I’ve conditioned myself into a morning person, I guess the sweet spot has shifted too. That’s really not the point, though.

Today is Saturday and what I really want to be doing is sitting here taking a stab at the next chapter. Unfortunately, what I’m really doing is sitting here paying bills, cleaning up the balls of dirt, dust, and dog hair that are large enough to qualify as a third dog, and installing a new toilet seat (don’t ask). Today is pretty much catching up on all the stuff a normal person would have kept up with during the week. Me, not so much. I’m determined to pretend that I have a second full time career as a writer… and time slips away accordingly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the basement and rummage around for a crescent wrench. Either this bolt’s coming off or the whole damned thing will shatter. Maybe I should go ahead and turn the water off while I’m down there.

If I don’t flood the house in the next hour and I can manage to get the grass cut in a reasonable amount of time, maybe, just maybe, I can salvage some quality time to write this afternoon… Just in time to get interrupted by dinner. Lord, no wonder people never finish writing their great American novel.

Ah, Saturday…

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I look forward to your coming all week, Saturday and yet somehow when you get here you’re never as awesome as I expected you to be. You always seem to turn into me sitting here paying bills, cleaning the bathroom, and going to the dump. That isn’t the glorious day off I had in mind when I yearned for you back on Wednesday. I could spend another half hour spelling out all the ways you’ve disappointed me this morning, but I need to go get a few more things done so I can at least salvage the afternoon.