I call it a dandy sign that I turned down dinner with friends tonight. It’s not that I’m pathetic or antisocial, it’s that I floated around in fiction mode all week, lost track of the days, and figured tomorrow for another weekday.

Has that ever happened to you?

I also forgot that my book group is meeting on Sunday to discuss The Senator’s Wife by Sue Milller. I haven’t started the book yet…

All this forgetfulness is fine by me; it means I’m finally immersed in a long fiction project. I’m a little fearful that the next round of work deadlines (started to heat up this week) will derail me from the writing. I need to figure that one out, for sure.

But, meanwhile, working from home, you’d think the weekend distinction wouldn’t matter, but the notion is instilled into my hardwiring. Usually anyhow. Since I already declined a dinner out, I’m pretending tonight’s a typical Thursday night, or maybe Wednesday. I’ll start the next scene tonight before bed and continue it tomorrow morning.

Silly sidenote: What am I doing as I write this post, specifically this sentence at exactly 9:42 p.m.? I’m watching the new Melrose Place pilot episode! Yee gads, I know, I know! So far, this episode features murder, bribery, cougar action, adultery, financial ruin, a shaky marriage proposal, sexual proposals (for $$s), and depraved ambition. Maybe I am a little pathetic and antisocial, after all?

(P.S. Was the old Melrose Place that I watched with addictive glee as silly as this one?)