in which vegetation ceases to appear

I needed that. I lost an hour but regained a sense of the value of time. In the past few months I’ve had half a dozen three-day weekends, and while I can’t complain about that, I can admit that my inner clock was in need of resetting. Weekends of any length are to be appreciated. This one isn’t even close to over yet, and yet I’ve already made better use of this short weekend, writing-wise, than I did of most (maybe all) of those long ones. (In fact, enough got done on Saturday that it probably wasn’t strictly necessary to set the clocks ahead on Saturday night and in the process accidentally turn the alarm on for early Sunday morning. But that just gives me more time. Precious, precious time.) I do wonder if the real reason for my sudden willingness to plant myself and focus on writing isn’t the springing forward, or even spring* per se, but the fact that I’ve realized I’ve still got to do my taxes. Maybe I just need to be procrastinating something that it is in my own best interest to get finished. That’s right, I have every reason to expect a refund, so it’s just plain stupid to put it off. But I can’t make myself feel bad about that. If money were what motivates me, I would be blogging (or not) a very different kind of life.

* noun
the season after winter and before summer, in which vegetation begins to appear

I know me so well

So that actually worked yesterday — worked so well it didn’t seem like work at all. True, I didn’t get a tremendous amount written, even by my standards, but it feels very good to have established exactly which specific project it is that I’ll spend the immediate future neglecting.

the early bird gets the worm / the early worm forgets the bird

• I couldn’t help but notice that two different editors were recently kind enough to accept the fiction I sent them even before the deadlines for submissions to those particular theme issues.
• I couldn’t for the life of me remember any equivalent instances of premature rejection.