The printed-out proofs of my book sat humming with urgency in a bag in the living room.
Nonchalantly, I made a cup of tea and took it back to bed with a bowl of cereal.
I was struck with a song idea:
The world and it's brother, it stands on your shoulders
To try to reach the sky
But don't cry
Annie, don't cry
'I think I'll sing that into my phone so I don't forget the melody'
So I did that.
And then I thought of some unusual chords (for me, anyway) and I hoisted up my guitar and played them into my phone, all ready for a lazy songwriting session instead of doing what I should have been doing. After all, what is more important, creativity or...
The phone plopped right into the centre of the remaining milk in the cereal bowl, covering itself in sugary yuk and demanding rescue on pain of death and cleaning and restoring to its former glory with materials that were not at hand.
So now I am Up, with the proofs beside me (but not yet out of their bag), prevarication well and truly stymied.
Or maybe, grrrl.