We had 95 percent humidity at 6am when I went to meet my friend Mim for a pre-breakfast walk. So what was supposed to be a brisk kick to our ever-widening sedentary backsides turned into a slow, sweaty stroll followed by coffee in an air-conditioned bar. Now, just before 9am, she's gone back to her desk, Mr F has just left for work and I'm feeling distinctly uneasy because there's nothing I absolutely have to do today. A normal person might go to the beach or the golf course, or at least fit in a little light shopping before lunch. An obsessive worker might start on a new project and someone with the true gift of indolence might lie on the couch with a bunch of grapes and a good movie.

I don't want to do any of the above. And I think the problem is, I'm in limbo. I delivered my book. The jury is out and I await the verdict. Mr F says he loves it, but then, he sleeps with the author.
I could get off with a suspended sentence. You know, something like, 'Well, Laurie, I think we'll let posterity judge you.'
Or I could get three months hard editing. I do have previous convictions, after all. Poor plot construction, lame jokes, gratuitous sneering. A repeat offender.
While I wait for the jury to file back into court the only thing I can think to do is strip down to my underwear, iron some shirts and consider possible new careers.