(no subject)

God, I'm so close to finishing this effing story and I can't make myself sit down and do it. I open it up and stare at it for a long and painful time, and then I just float off into other pursuits. Even housework sounds more appealing. Well. No, not really. Sitting in the living room and reading and pretending the house will clean itself, though, that's definitely more appealing.

But that's it. No more procrastination. I'm going to finish that fucker today if it kills me.

Yeah, but my hands look good ...

So, I was on my way to the story (no, really), when it occurred to me that a bit lunch wouldn't be amiss, because hey, one o'clock. I had rice krispies and milk because the cupboards, while not quite bare, are not exactly overflowing, and I'm trying to cut down on wheat, and milk does a body good. As lunches go, it was less than inspiring, but it was a distraction.

And then I decided that what I really needed was a manicure. I am not in the least bit girly about these things, in fact the last time I gave myself a thorough manicure was, like, never. If I remember to push back my cuticles once every six months I feel pretty proud of myself. But somehow today, today when I'm thissss close to finishing the story, I just had to have a manicure. Which, incidentally, I didn't do half badly, considering.

Can I have my biscuit now?

I finished it! In between giving myself manicures, making a cobby-looking-but-who-gives-a-shit icon, playing with the dog, entertaining the nephew's son, commiserating with my sister on her crappy day at work and generally doing everything else but, I finally managed to finish the story.

It's my first story in this (nsync) or any other fandom, so I'm feeling just a tad pleased with myself. Maybe less pleased when a couple of weeks have gone by and I let myself look at it again, but right now? Natural high, baby.

I've given it to my sister who's agreed to beta the beast, but I'm worried that she won't be ruthless enough. Whatever. I'm not looking at it again for at least two weeks.

If I didn't have to go in to work tomorrow, life would be just about perfect.