Today is dark, gloomy, cold and drizzly, the perfect day to stay indoors and write. Right? Wrong. I live on an old homesteaded farm in the middle of nowhere USA. It's a great place to be alone with your thoughts to write. But, my studio is the old bunkhouse 100 ft. from the main house and although 100 ft doesn't sound like a big deal can you leave a warm cozy house, where you're tucked into your cozy bathrobe, sipping hot chocolate and don a winter coat, slide across the icy deck, maneuver your way down the even more icy steps to the crunchy grass, then slip and slide your way to the studio door only to realize you left the keys at the main house? Ask me how many times I've done that? Okay, second trip, and I do mean trip, up the stairs and onto the deck, ice-skating across it to the door to retrieve my keys.
Get the picture? So then after the perilous journey back to my studio, ( I can remember several days like this), I take off my coat, gloves, and hat, then slip into my extra pair of slippers, light a candle and some incense, stand in front of the fireplace to take the chill off and then....the urge to go to the bathroom hits and guess what? 100+ year old bunkhouses have no plumbing. No plumbing means no bathroom. Can I hold it? Maybe. Can I write while holding it? Nope. So it's off with the slippers, on with the coat, blow out the candle, stop the incense, make my way....wind blowing...back to the main house where I surrender the idea of writing to baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies and watching movies.
I've wised up. I never even attempted the journey today. Chocolate chip cookies coming up.