I try to write every day, working after I finish. I'm a creature of routines, very happy in them. In fact, I'm my happiest when I get my allotted amount of writing time and a good work day, followed by a physical workout, then some blog and NON time, and if necessary, more work time, then dinner and some relax time. When the routine works, it works really well. I've had super efficient days that have made two normal days look like I spent the whole time slacking off.
The routine has not been working lately.
First off, I'm finishing up details on different stages of several writing projects, and while I'm getting a lot done, it feels like I'm spinning my wheels because I'm not seeing a lot of progress. Everything I was doing was necessary, so I'm glad I did it, and now I can focus on Madison again. So I thought today was getting off to a good start.
Then my little girl cat, Zenzo, got either a bladder infection or has crystals in her urine (the vet wasn't able to determine which because they couldn't get a sample from her), but the inconclusive findings took over five hours of Zenzo at the traumatizing vet's office. She came home with a bag of medicines—including some liquid pain killer that smells like a fruity cocktail, as in if someone had served it to me in a bar, I would have sipped it with a smile—and a shattered sense of well-being, which has had her hissing and growling at her brother and slinking around the house to investigate otherwise normal sounds.