That's what I'm trying not to do today. My brain would love to finish writing "Awake." It would also love to finish reading The Fortune of War and go leaping on to The Hallowed Hunt, now that His Birthdayness has finished it. And let's never mind the phone calls, errands, and chores that aren't nearly as appealing as either.
So: a schedule. Yes. First phone calls. Then shower. (I am not matociquala: I regularly write without pants. In fact, on a per word basis, between my love of skirts and my habit of sitting around the house in my nightgown until after lunch if I'm not going anywhere, I probably write more fiction without pants than with. Pants and I have an uneasy truce anyway.) Then "Awake." Then if I finish "Awake" or it is past 4:00 and I have hit the 4:00 blood sugar wall, I am permitted read more about Aubrey and Maturin, proceeding possibly to the Bujold if I am speedy and virtuous. And then I will make dinner or entice someone else to do so, and I will eat it, and then I will finish "Awake" if it is not yet finished, and I will cut up the saffron buns and freeze them, and I will mend my trusty old tan flowered shirt*, and then we shall see.
The hazard of this plan is that it is wise to keep reading material near one when one is going to be using the phone to make appointments, lest one be put on hold and forced to sing along with Neil Diamond songs, to which one knows all the words due to the malignant influence of one's favorite aunt. Umm. One seems to have slipped from the general, there. So one might be tempted into the said reading material for longer than the duration of the phone call. Still. These things need doing. So this is my attempt at virtue.
*It practically qualifies as an old family retainer after all these years and mendings. It's been with me since I turned 17. Which is a long while for a cotton T-shirt, and I expect to keep it longer, but it has a button off.