The Mouse Is Dead, Long Live the Mouse

I've had a long week. Long hours, lots of time right here in front of the computer, and only 2.5 hours of that have been writing time. The rest has been my paying job. I knew this week was going to be grueling, but knowing it's coming and living through it are two different experiences entirely.

I can feel that I pushed myself (and my eyes—they really need a break) this week, but my wireless mouse confirmed it a few hours ago when it gave up and refused to budge. No more, it protested. I'm done. (It could have been channeling the way my behind feels right about now, too.)

Unfortunately, my mouse does not dictate my deadlines.* I was forced to plug it in, start it recharging, and carry on.

Now, though, unexpectedly finished with all my work eight hours earlier than I predicted, I'm thinking that I should give myself the same treatment as the mouse. It's time for me to plug in and recharge. Perhaps some uninterrupted time with Native Star by M. K. Hobson (I've been stuttering through this book in my spare time), perhaps some veg time with Netflix. Definitely a walk. Fresh air.** Sunlight.

I could not be more thankful for the work I just finished, except, of course, that it is finished and I have the whole weekend ahead of me. Let the recharging begin!

*As far as mice go, this one's stellar. It possibly could double as a muse all in itself. Which means that if it were in charge of deadlines, and the energy and creativity behind those deadlines, maybe my productivity would increase. Hum. *begins chanting, Oh, great Logitech muse, how may I serve thee?*

**Now I'm pandering to a mouse? Fresh air is imperative!