It's 93 degrees. Lawd have mercy. But wait, I need to quit playin' around. Summer time humidity, Louisiana style, hasn't kicked in yet. Which is why I finished cutting those big dead palm branches without feeling dazed. Even in full sunshine. Shoot, this is nothing compared to what's coming. Another reason I keep getting distracted by thoughts of not keeping my butt in the chair to write. And for some reason Mondays seem to be the worst. "Mondays are so hard, Lynn. Just one more day off won't hurt," the devil on my shoulder whispers. It's not like I write Saturdays and Sundays. Nope. Those are my days to run errands, spend time with friends, attend church, and watch more television.
Each Monday that I write is a victory. I fought the malaise successfully today. I am strong. I am an artiste. I shall finish this book in time for NY Comic Con! (crowd roaring approval and support)