The Saints and Chargers are at Wembley today, and I'm not in London. I'm getting kind of annoyed with myself these days. When I first came back from England in 2002 (where have the last 6 years gone?) I was all committed to getting back there right away. I was completely in action about it. Writing to people, submitting stuff everywhere, going back all the time to make sure people remembered me. In my defense, I was 25, living back at home, didn't have 9 cats, wasn't married, and had a lot more energy. But ok, so I had more energy and time. But so what? Am I still committed to being able to live in London part time? If so, I need to get off my butt and make it happen.
Ok. So that's my pep talk to myself.
It's Sunday, which means laundry, cleaning up, fresh litter boxes, and cooking.
Also, I'm finally participating in National Novel Writing Month, so I need to start brainstorming and working on that a bit. Nothing too exciting. A nice fall day. Maybe a fire in the fireplace later and pumpkin carving. And writing. And working out. And dreaming. Yay for sundays.
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