Went downtown with my wife today for about four hours. Wrote in the morning, and tried to write when I got back but was tired, had to eat dinner, then rented a video and watched that Vincent Donofrio version of law and order.

Felt some despair while working with a source. Wish I knew more about lit reviews, but right now I just need the pages. Hard to slow down in a sense. Hard to take the time to read. Feel guilty for enjoying the job and the home, because it all seems unreal. Must finish.

Tomorrow: I'll probably wake up with a sore back around 5:30. I'm downing some chocolate chips, exercising on the machine for 15 minutes, then writing until about 9am.

I like working at home in the basement. Much less distracting than the cubicles at work.