This Is How It’s Supposed To Work

Having a day job forces me to do my writing at night.
Having confused hormones forces me to exercise at night too.

Decisions, decisions.

Tonight, I got home, put a load of laundry in, answered some email, then conducted a heated debate with myself.

To exercise…or to write. Ah, that was the burning question.

On one hand, I argued, maybe getting on the treadmill wasn’t such a good idea since (sniff, sniff) I’ve got a head cold.

On the other hand, I didn’t write anything yesterday, so MAJOR guilt is setting in.

But…but…my progress toward regaining my old body took such a frickin’ hit last week, what with three nights out in a row (not to mention Valentine’s yesterday—which, don’t get excited, I spent with friends)…I really, really, thought I should knock off at least 30 minutes on the treadmill.

Then the truth hit me. The real problem—the reason I didn’t wanna do EITHER (aside from the fact that I’m an honest-to-goodness slacker)—was that I wanted to get back to the book I’m reading. The Secret Life of Bees.

Somehow, realizing the source of my indecision, made my choice clear.

I got on the treadmill.

And about fifteen minutes into it, as I flipped back and forth between Everybody Loves Raymond and the making of the latest Madonna video, somehow a MAJOR problem I’d been having with my current WIP got fixed. Just like that! Seemingly out the blue!

Hey, that’s what I call multi-tasking…and the way writing should work all the time. Now if I could only squeeze in the next scene before the Olympics come on (not to mention American Idol). Shoot, more multi-tasking.