Rain is a good thing, at least right here, right now. We’ve been badly in need of it…and we finally got some this weekend. It’s still wet and drippy and dark out, which means that a) I don’t have to do any yard work today, and b) the cats are curled up in their favorite napping places, wondering why their stupid human is busy doing things on a day that’s just made for napping.
Instead, I have paperwork. Estimated taxes are due next week, and I have to make sure I have enough in the bank account to pay them. I also have end-of-the-month bookkeeping to catch up on from May, and a bunch of filing (I loathe filing!), mail, and e-mail to deal with. And a chapter to finish, if I don’t want to get behind schedule.
So, naturally, I am blogging instead of doing any of those other productive things. I am tempted to claim that this is the natural perversity of writers in action, but I think it’s really just the natural perversity of people.
