2 o'clock block

The wall I hit at 2 p.m. is a hearty one. All progress halts as I consider unnecessary snacks and conpulsively check my email. Compulsive email checking for unpopular kids like me is a waste of time and ego; I could check that thing every ten minutes all day long and never get an email that wasn’t a misguided Facebook alert about someone who commented on a status that I also commented on.

Hitting this wall is very disheartening for me everyday, but especially so on Fridays. On Fridays I have a strange desire to earn my weekend through hard work and perseverance. It’s a freaky throwback trait to my 9-5 days and a real indicator that my brain hasn’t fully grasped the fact that I usually work on the weekends now.

Today started off well enough. I was productive from 8 a.m. to noon, and then I ate some food and then did a little more work. I was relatively pleased; I started a new story that might have eventual promise and then hacked away at some unpromising story for about an hour. But as 2 p.m. neared, the barking of the neighbor’s dog became more pronounced and I suddenly became aware that my own dog was licking the floor in the kitchen and producing rending tongue-scrape noises.

I figured that killing my neighbor’s dog would be slightly less PC than the time that I read aloud from the Wikipedia entry about skinheads with the windows open (and I’ve a very carrying voice, you know) so I satisfied my own angst by asking my dog if she wouldn’t mind not licking the floor anymore. My dog, of course, interpreted this request as an invitation to stand beside me and breathe laboriously. And that, perhaps, is why I am writing this blog.

I’m trying to recall if I had anything else of note to mention while I am on here. I haven’t read much lately that hasn't been pointedly instructive and my television (cough, internet, cough) time has been divided between a bad British miniseries about scullery maids and an unforgivably raunchy HBO show about kings.

Something weird that I learned today: In some states there is a wolf hunting season and Montana’s closed today after the 12 wolf quota was met. That brings a tear to my Julie of the Wolves lovin’ eye.