- It's too sunny. I need to be outside to soak up a ray or two before the winter sets in.
- It's too cold. My fingers are too stiff and I want to curl up by the fire.
- It's too wet. There's a line in Gabriel Garcia Marquez when he writes, 'It's raining too hard to think.' Oh yes, I know that feeling.
- I'm too tired. I had a late night and all I want to do today is flop about.
- The gas person/electrician/plumber/parcel delivery person is coming some time today. I don't want to get stuck into something and then lose my train of thought.
- I really ought to do something about the jungle that is my garden.
- I'm meeting a friend for coffee later, so there's no point in starting anything.
- Next door's dog is barking/baby crying.
- I need to so more research.
So how come, when I get passed that lot, I love it once I can settle down. All I have to do is turn the computer on, open a file - and the hours fly by. Passing delivery men - pah! A coffee stop - wonderful - but not for too long as I need to get back to it.
I tell the world that I write because I breathe - and that's true. I can't imagine living without scribbling things down. My notebook is beside me (and full of random thoughts) all the time. So why the fiddle-faddling delays to turning the wretched computer on?
(Am I the only one who does this ...?)
