"Work is a necessary evil to be avoided." - Mark Twain

It is the first week of my unemployment; length undetermined and nest egg already dwindling.

I have plenty to do, besides write, and yet almost nothing has been completed. There is a pile of... things forming in my room waiting to be sorted, packed, or thrown away. There are various scribbles and pointless scenes popping up in the notebook, my questionable prose tossed in between too many trips to the car shop and two many hours spent in front of reruns of Scrubs and Doctor Who whilst I question my initiative - or lack thereof.

I've got the Summer Novel narrowed, at least, to two in progress: First, the Science Fiction Tome of Doom, 10 years in the making, yet somehow remade year to year as it never seems good enough; Second, the Fledgling Fantasy Novel, with the promising concept and non-existent plot.

Needless to say, I am leaning towards the SF Tome of Doom. Somehow, I feel, after all these years of its forgotten loyalty, it has earned the right to be completed.

Finished Reading: By the Pricking of my Thumbs, Agatha Christie
Will Begin Reading: Either a collection of Christie stories, or Sherlock Holmes.