I need to learn to listen to my body. That's what all the experts say, and it's actually a sound truth that's been appropriated for mass messaging. My body is telling me clearly that I don't want any pie, or cake, or chocolate. My body feels fine without it. I'm full, and I'm not even having a real craving. Instead, there's this little cuckoo-clockwork thing in my head that pops out every now and then, at random times, and suggests that I go over to the cafe and pick up a nice slice of torte. Stupid brain. It's exactly like trying not to drink, but worse in some ways, because it's *food*. And so the conditioning is life-long and insidious.
What's really annoying is that it's my brain trying to distract me from writing. And it's been pretty successful this weekend with all its other distractions. So: body wants to sleep and brain wants to do anything but write. Between them I've managed to waste a hella lot of time.
Of course, I did do laundry. There may not be any writing, but when I die, on my deathbed, I will have clean undies. So I've got that going for me.