I am trying to reduce consumption, Picky Vegetarian, but today is already a two-pot day.

Sigh.

Thanks to Kwana for letting me know about this:

“People who consumed several cups of coffee every day were less likely to die of heart disease than those who shied away from the stuff. Heart disease is an umbrella term for conditions including heart attacks, stroke, and arrhythmia. . . [W]omen who drank four to five cups per day were 34% less likely to die of heart disease, while men who had more than five cups a day were 44% less likely to die.”

And just ’cause, here is another picture of the slowly-finishing up house:

So wiped out.

I saw crocuses (is that crocii?) in some yards walking over to my house today, does that mean Spring is coming? I cannot wait!

We’ve had a respite here in terms of frantic frothing about North And South, but that is about to change: My girlfriend, the Super-Smart Lawyer, is coming over on Saturday and we will be watching it.

She has more passion for Ewan McGregor than I do, but we agree on Clive, Heywood Wakefield furniture, the color green, coffee, Mission Of Burma, Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings (although only one of us kissed a Dap-King a gazillion years ago, and it wasn’t me), red wine and the joy of living in Brooklyn.

Woo. And hoo.

Returned to Brooklyn. Did not buy milk. Hence no coffee. Tragedy ensues.

I might have actually drunk too much coffee. I am actually JITTERY today.

How bizarre is that?!?

You could win a free book! Not here; head on over to the Riskies, and comment on the super-fabulously nice Mary Blayney’s interview, and you could win a signed copy of her new anthology, signed by all four authors (including Nora).

So, why are you hanging around here?

Okay, I’ll satisfy your fix: My name is Megan, and I am neurotic about my weight, my teeth, if I talk too much or too little, my writing time, how tired I am, how much coffee I seem to need, and how little housework I seem to do despite picking things up all the time. I am not neurotic about how much I love Clive Owen or Sean Bean or how proud I am that I read and write romance.

Now head on over there!

Okay, so I dragged my sorry ass to the gym today. The Doesn’t Understand the Psychological Issues Related to Exercise  I Have Spouse suggested I go running tomorrow morning. We. Will. See.

And the pimple isn’t as bad.

And the pumpkin spice coffee I bought is AMAZING! (Take that, Picky Vegetarian; flavored coffee!)

This weekend, I was at the New Jersey conference, where they TANTALIZINGLY PLACED tables with coffee cups, sugar, coffeemate hoo-ha, and spoons. BUT NO COFFEE!

this is my ‘woe is me, there is no coffee’ face.

(hey, how much we wanna bet I screwed up the saving of the file, and Myretta will have to bail me out AGAIN?)

So for a variety of reasons I am having a hard time staying motivated to get back on the stick, or the keyboard, and start writing again. Which means things won’t happen, because I haven’t done it, but I don’t want to do it because things aren’t happening.
I have my mom-lit to revise the ending of–yet again–and I do not want to [cue me stomping my feet and tossing my hair. Never cute even on a four year-old, but on a 43-y.o.? Pas de tout.]
I have Road to Passion to finish. I like this story a lot, but I have to print it all out, which means dragging the laptop out and balancing it on my knees while I figure out which version is the right one and then sorting the pages and feeding the printer and–ugh.
I have a romantica short story I’d like to start, but of course the previous two projects have prior claim.
I have no time because Back-to-School means Back-to-Normal-Brooklyn life, which requires laundry, grocery shopping, etc. Plus miscellaneous running around, which always takes longer.
Feh.
What can possible inspire me?

Oh, all right then. I’ll get back to work.