According to the news, this is the worst day of the year. Not that I needed the media to tell me. Christmas vacation is over, kiddos go back to school, grown folks go back to work, we strip all the holiday fun out of our lives, and it's cold as fuck. I spent the day taking down holiday decorations, hustling Zoey to the vet, taking the car to the mechanic to receive a hefty estimate for future repairs ('future' meaning Wednesday), and running other crappy errands. Got some reading in too, so not a total loss, but no writing. Tomorrow's the day for that, although it's also the day Kiddo's school starts 2 hours late due to record low temperatures (low teens...why?!). Thanks to bone-chilling temperatures, I won't be running at 5. I can do mid-twenties, but teens? Uh, hell no. So, I'll have to run later when it's sunny and 25 degrees at the hottest part of the day. This morning it was 55 degrees and I ran in shorts and a tank top. Tomorrow it will be about 15 with 5 mph winds. WTF?! This makes me loathe the end of Xmas break even more. I just spent a lovely 2 weeks in 70 to 80 degree weather in the tropical wonderland that is Florida. Skirts, shorts, sandals, sunshine, happiness. Now back to reality. Bitter, cold reality.
It is exciting to get back to writing after so many weeks of lazy, nonproductive vacation. I'm still not sure what to work on first. I just know I need to get back to work. My fingers are itching to get some words on the page. Original words, so an editing project is out. Oh, the possibilities. I tried to explain the fiction writing process to Kiddo on our drive home from Florida, how magical it feels, how liberating. You can make up any-fucking-thing you want. How cool is that? She just gave me a strange look and went back to tapping away on her iPod Touch. Whatevs. I know what's cool. Making shit up. And I'll be getting back to it on the morrow.