My two mental preoccupations have just collided.
The first is the writing. I've hit a point where reading books and cleaning and wandering around the city is not enough to keep me content. Yes, it's very good that I have shiny sinks again, but no, it does not make me feel in the least bit productive. Words. There must be words.
I have a project that I'd very much like to be working on. I have the time to work on it -- yes, plenty. And yet ... nothing. I feel like I'm standing beside a perfectly lovely car, empty handed, saying, "Go, car! C'mon, car! Go!" The whole process would go ever so much faster if I just had the key.
The second obsession: Doctor Who. Watched the final episode on Tuesday (yay, BBC!). Then again on Wednesday. Twice. Ditto Thursday. Suffice it to say, I love Doctor Who, and I love, love, love the final episode, even though it makes me sad. Frightening and funny, happy and sad and all sorts of other lovely stuff all at once. And because the CBC hasn't shown this episode yet, I can't say a damn thing more without spoilers.
So, as I'm walking home from an appointment this morning, still pondering Doctor Who (and mentally quoting lines to myself) and searching for the writing-key, I said to myself: "Right. That's it. No more watching Doctor Who until there is progress. Real progress. Words that form sentences that form paragraphs." And, unfortunately, when I said no Doctor Who I meant it -- and that means no watching Doctor Who Confidential or the online CBC documentary things or video clips or anything. And I was quite serious.
Damn me, anyway.
So: progress. Right. Now where did I put those keys?