Days I get things done are wonderful days.  Not busy-making days, although those are satisfying in their way too, but creative days.  Of course days when I have worked on the book are the most satisfying.  I used to aim for 1000 words a day.  Now I am satisfied with 500.  Stephen King writes 2000.   If I had a wife I'd try for 2000 a day too.  Yes, I could squeeze out extra time, not watch tv at night with Richard, not brush my elderly cats who don't groom as well as they used to, not waste time looking at greyhound rescue sites, as I did today, or check out the latest on Instagram, as I also did, or practice guitar, which I also did! or work on an entry for Inktober, ditto - but those things; lunch and the making of it, cleaning up after Richard (one of his bad days - but I kept my cool - so much better than before - find the good!) so this is my life and I'm glad to have it, with its more challenging bits included. 

I did see a crimson rosella this morning and the writing went pretty well and the drawing is okay and the sky is blue, the day warm and I planted 5 chocolate fruit tree seeds - what's not to love?

Plus there was someone on Instagram admitting they don't like being hugged in a village where everyone hugs at every casual meeting.  So I wrote ditto.  I'm a better hugger than before but would prefer not to be hugged by anyone other than Richard.  I love his hugs - everyone else?  keep your hugs to home, thanks.

So off to practice yoga without which I'd stiffen up in no time.  Have missed two consecutive days before and start to seize up.  Use it or bloody well lose it!