Woke up at five this morning, but already it’s almost seven and I can’t say I’ve achieved much.  Granted, a good half hour of that was lying in bed trying to go back to sleep, but a good hour plus has been dicking around on the net.  Ostensibly, I suppose, I was checking the news and answering mail, and that is important.  Plus, with the beauty of twitter and facebook, I can keep up with real time and far-flung friends, and even find out how J’s night in the hospital was, and when she might get out.  And facebook Scrabble. Let us not forget facebook Scrabble.

But I am determined that today will be a day of some accomplishment.  I’ve had some nice ruminating days, and it’s been fun to keep posting bits of TSV to fictionpress (There’s three chapters now: you just keep hitting those arrows on the sides.), but I want to end today feeling Things Were Done.  Like, I want to finish sorting the garage sale clothes.  And getting the laundry put away would be a plus.  But mostly I want to get back into STB, because it’s been whispering again, and I haven’t been "into" anything for awhile, and after some time this grates on my spine.  It’s been fun putting TSV on the web (if not a little nerve-wracking), but I’m ready to stop thinking about that, to let it run on some sort of subconscious autopilot.  I want to get back into writing. I want that story to have a damn form again.

We’re getting ready for The Big Family Vacation, too, which means I need to be getting into high Virgo mode, planning and plotting and packing.  It feels like a lovely burst into summer, sailing west for two weeks straightaway.  Part of me thinks it would be better to not get into writing before I go, but a bigger part of me thinks that’s a great road to serious depression right before a fun trip.  Besides, I work better when I’m doing ten things at once.

Therapy.  Well, I went to PT yesterday, and she did serious bodywork that felt great yesterday but weird today.  I’m numb all over, and I don’t know what that means.  Also, I got a tetanus shot yesterday, because of the aforementioned nail-in-foot.  That’s a story in itself, but here’s the cliff notes: I got caught between two big clinics’ front desk red tape, one saying it wouldn’t give me a shot until I knew when my last one was, the other saying they’d pull my file and look "sometime."  So I called the one waiting for Godot and said it’d been three days, getting to four, since I had the contact with potential tetanus, that the other clinic wasn’t cooperating, and that if they didn’t get me in by the time my pharmacist husband got off work, he would be calling them, and he would be unhappy.  They patched me through to the nurse, who got me in at one-thirty, and as soon as she saw my foot said, "If you haven’t had one in the past five years, with this I’d want you to have one anyway."  I haven’t had one in the past five years.  So all the tape was for nothing.

Today begins with taking Sidney to the vet, and then a workout, and then, who knows.  But right now there will be coffee, because Dan is up, too, and I smell it brewing downstairs.   Also, maybe bacon.  Maybe even pancakes.  I did get up early, after all.

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