Nah, not you lot. I just got myself two weeks off work, which takes my holiday time taken this year up to six weeks. I may be a lowly account executive, but I feel like a teacher.
I will spend the first couple of days, as I usually do, clearing up all the junk and underwear (sadly always my own) I’ve left lying around for the last few weeks, making sure I’ve paid all my bills, maybe checking out a movie and sorting out my system (my Powerbook is constantly accessing its hard drive and locking up. This is very irritating. Literally. I have spots.)
Once the chores are finished, the mission begins.
I have two weeks. While this blog has had some moderate success in motivating my ass, I’m not doing anywhere near as much writing as I ought to. Ce la vie, I suppose, but I’m entering my sixth calendar month, and I believe this is, by some coincidence, my 100th post, and it’s time to put up or shut up.
In two weeks I will be well on the way to finishing my rough draft of Conchie, and maybe along the way will have explained a little bit of what it’s about. If I get to the end of the fortnight with little or nothing to show, I will know I am a fraud and will commit seppuko by web-cam. You have my word.
So here’s my desk:
This is where I’m going to be spending most of the next sixteen days. Currently clean and free of clutter, though I really must get around to washing out that coffee mug, expect it to look like an Iranian nuclear lab in two weeks time. Possibly with entrails.