I spent the weekend nesting like a pregnant woman. Not nesting for a baby, nesting for a novel. I cleaned, washed sheets, vacuumed. I went shopping. Made several trips to the grocery store. And then, most notably, this weekend I cooked. I now have meals for a week in my fridge and about seven TV dinner options chilling in my freezer.
With the domestic things taken care off -- I even put my clothes away after I washed them! -- there should be nothing distracting me this week while I write. Nothing but school, teaching, grading, lesson planning, and the great unknown which is my novel. Nothing much at all in the face of the toilet having been cleaned.
