I want to write on my real novel (the oh-no-war-broke-out-and-I'm-in-the-wrong-country one).
I want to write on my "fun" novel (the intergalactic space princess one).
I want to write on my other fun novel (the reality show romance - don't laugh. Or do. It's supposed to be funny).
I want to read the new Miles Vorkosigan book (this is probably going to win out).
I want to read the new Cooking Light I just got in the mail.
I want to read the other magazines I just got in the mail.
I want to crochet a bathroom rug.
I want to cross-stitch.
I want to read every single Cat the Cat book to my kids.
I want to sing every single Easter hymn in the hymnal (yes, I know it's the wrong time of year, but Christ yet risen).
I want to make toffee (I'm not going to, it's not Christmas yet).
I want to work on a certain someone's Christmas present (but I won't elaborate on that here because said person reads this blog - ha! maybe it's YOU.)
I want to finish sewing the birthday dress I started for my poor firstborn TWO YEARS AGO.
I want to declutter at least three different places in the house.
This is how I feel, apparently, when I finish a really, really good workout.
Peace of Christ to you,