Went into the kitchen to get my cup of coffee, and saw that I somehow did not push the mug back far enough under the mug-dripper-inner and instead of a quick cup of coffee waiting for me to help buoy me up and into the writing, I had ten minutes of mopping and sponging a counter and rinsing and.... Heated up a pan, sizzled some butter in it. Sliced some jalapeños on the fly, cooked an egg with cheese melted. Toasted a whole wheat English Muffin (or was it Swedish?), slapped together a "meal," and came back in here. Trying to settle into the book, but find my mind is preoccupied with the oncoming evening engagement. That's my muse for ya. She is twice as difficult as I am, and that is saying a lot. If I do not devote a massive, wide-open space for her, she just pouts her lip and lights out for parts uncharted. She does not negotiate wiggle-room.

Tomorrow, then. Back on it. Early. Well...when I wake up, that is.

EDIT: I really, really, really, love those "Saturday Morning Revelations," as I call them. Remember when you would wake up on a Saturday morning, or a Summer Vacation's first day and think, immediately, Ugh....time for school.., only to realize you had no school that day? Man, that is the best.

I just got up and looked, forlornly, at the invitation and realized the party is not until Dec 5th! How sweet. How very, very sweet. Looks like I get to write after all!

Saturday morning, baby.