I so enjoyed writing on a Sunday and was pleased with the two stories. I shall look at them with a colder eye tomorrow of course. I don't usually write on Sundays, but today was different. Everyone was occupied and I wasn't needed for a while, so I didn't feel too guilty! And I had cooked and cleared up lunch, packed my husband's case for our holiday next week and typed up an itinerary for the holiday too. Apart from that, I was up at five this morning (insomniac) and wrote a poem. I'm thinking of entering the National Poetry Competition and wanted to have a try once the idea started niggling me in the chilly dawn. It went very well, but I don't know how I'll feel about it tomorrow. I really hope I still like it, but I think it will need lots of tweaking. So I'll be hunched over it in the early hours again. Poetry works best for me at that time.
I'm tired now, because when I realised I didn't need to feel guilty about neglecting the family on a Sunday, I started feeling guilty about sitting for so long. I could feel my backside spreading across the sofa. Brian, the cat, was looking disdainfully at me from the next cushion, as if he didn't have enough space. So I went on a mammoth bike-ride. Well, half an hour to the next village and back.
So I am now guilt-free. Except I am about to have a large glass of wine and watch TV.