I’m in that weird space today where I finished all my work early, am waiting on other projects to begin, and basically have the rest of the day free until someone calls me with a mad rush at four o’clock. I am, for a change, at a loose end.

I have never been very good at dealing with days like this. I always feel mildly guilty that I’m not tethered to my desk with work. I know, it’s silly, right? As long as all your clients are happy and you’re not slacking off and you’re earning enough money to pay the bills, who cares if you have a Wednesday afternoon free? What Puritan is standing at my office door telling me to sit around here and wait for some good, old-fashioned drudgery to come my way? (His name is probably Cotton, and I can see his expression right now, and that wagging finger.)

We’ve already taken Len for a walk, and I’ve already watered my little tiny shrubs in the back flowerbeds (please don’t die, please don’t die). Mike is studying the afternoon away and I’m writing in here. I suppose what I could do is scour the Web for projects to pitch, but what I think I will do is work on my novel for a while, go to the gym, and then go to the driving range and hit a bucket of balls.

And Cotton and his waggy Puritanical finger can go right ahead and get stuffed.