"Finest Worksong"

Today was officially an every-other-Thursday, meaning that Connor's great grandparents were here to take the horrid burden of being a parent to a kid with way too much charm for his own good off of me for a day. Since I've got plenty to work on in the way of writing this week, I used the time constructively, rather than wistfully wasting the day watching Arrested Development episodes or seeing how many nose hairs I can pluck before my eyes start watering.

Basically, as soon as my backup arrived, I parked myself at my desk and started banging out the copy — in between trips to the pantry for a replinishment of my ever dwindling Atomic FireBall supply, of course. Since my computer is set up in the den, though, any mental outbursts were limited to a couple of minutes at a time.

Once Connor went down for his nap, though, I got into serious writing mode. I plugged in my noise isolating headphones (so I wouldn't hear the snoring of a certain great-grandparent or two who shall remain nameless), put on the soothing sounds of Mobb Deep, and got to work. After nearly three hours, during which I never once glanced at my watch, I realized that I'd been writing undisturbed for what was probably the longest duration since I left my job last summer.

Around that time, Connor was waking up and my creativity was coming to an end.

Prior to today, I had been thinking that I would have a tough time reacclimating myself to working — and I probably will — but I will now admit, in public, that it probably won't be as tough as I had assumed. So, Stacey, you can stop worrying about me going back to work. When Connor — and any future offspring we might produce, adopt or steal — graduates high school, I'm right back in the workforce.

Sounds like a plan to me.