I hardly know where the day went.

Well, that's not entirely true. I had my reading group in the morning, from 9:00 a.m. to 11:45 p.m., and then went grocery shopping afterwards, not getting home until after 1:00 p.m. I made and ate lunch and checked and responded to email and such; took a nap to make up for the previous night's lost sleep, since I stayed up late doing legal work; got up and checked email and such again; made a rather complicated dinner; ate dinner; watched Project Runway; climbed into bed and watched an episode of Mission Impossible on DVD (my husband is inexplicably drawn to this series, even though it's really pretty bad after Barbara Bain and Martin Landau leave, and even worse when it tries to get hip with the coming of the 60s (which, as everyone knows, didn't really start until about 1968)). And then I fell asleep. No work, no writing. Some reading while I ate lunch and napped -- about 60 pages (no, I don't read while I sleep, but I read just before then; it relaxes me).

So I've now gone for two days without writing. I don't think that writing the first couple of pages of a new essay in my head counts. I hope to get them down on paper this afternoon, after a 4-mile walk. But at the moment I'm feeling pretty disappointed in myself. And equally determined to get back to work.