Ahhhh. This is stolen time, time away from the world. Fire from heaven.
Don't get me wrong -- I miss Ed immensely, would LOVE to see him. And what with editing two books and writing a third, juggling irate editors like chainsaws, I have TONS of stuff to do.
How odd, then, that my response would not be regret at missing my son or grateful and diligent application to my legitimate tasks. No, I want straight to the kid place: Snow day! Woo hoo!
I wonder if this is a human thing or a Scrimger thing? I remember way way back, slaving away on a project due the day after tomorrow, worrying like hell because I wasn't likely to finish in time, and when the deadline got extended by a week, my first action was to go to a movie.
Do prime ministers respond this way to unexpected gifts of time? Do tycoons or saints or scientists? Or is it only us irresponsible artist-kid types?
I'm not entirely stupid -- I know that time is never GIVEN but only loaned at interest. There'll always be more stuff to do, and even less time to do it. But I can't help my feeling of relief right now.
I should phone Ed (actually that'll be fun) and get back to my book. I know I should. But maybe I'll put on another pot of coffee and savour my freedom for another few minutes.
