I am not blocked... yet.

But I very well could be if I don't sit my ass down, open up Word, and just fucking write something already.

It's been three days of stop and start. A hundred words here, fifty there. A short burst where I wrote five hundred and felt great. Back to staring at the blinking cursor for an hour.

It's insidious and self-fulfilling. I see it and yet I can't stop it.

I have an outline. Know what I want to write and in what order. And yet...

I think I'll give the dog a bath. The house is dirty. I need more coffee. I really should paint my finger nails. And my toes. I need more coffee. I need to feed my kids. I need to talk to Chris. God, my legs are hairy. I should shave. I have to pay the ticket that I didn't even know I got while I was in Australia. I need more coffee.

So. 

The dog is clean. The house is clean. The kids are fed and my nails are pretty. I chatted to Chris, he pissed me off. My legs are gloriously hair-free and those ass-hat toll people in Sydney (who hit me up for a fee, for the two seconds I was on a toll-way and didn't know it), have been paid. 

I should go write.

But first, I really have to pee... 

It's the coffee.