A is for Ack!
"There's no way in hell that I can do this!" the writer said aloud to her laptop, which sat wagging it's tail of cords on her desk.
She shook her head and scolded the keys. "You can't make me do this! I have a blog post to do, and reviews to write, and a new novel to think about, not that I've forgotten the old one, well, the older ones, because I only forget things like why I walked into the other room or what else I needed at the store or what I'm supposed to do in a couple of days."
The digital time on her computer stared at her with what probably was a semblance of pity. The hard drive purred, just happy to not be overworked.
"What? What are you looking at?" she said to the clock. Eleven minutes left to go and still there wasn't anything happening. Ping! Oh, there's an email! Maybe it will be something inspiring. No.
And that damn cursor is just blinking at me. Six minutes left to go.
She thought about the email she should write, the difficult things she needed to say. She thought about how good news isn't always good news. She thought "I must be crazy!"
Would she do this another day? Or would today be the only one? Would she forget? Would she find herself writing things she wouldn't want to post? Would anything of any fucking worth come out of it or would it just be the random upchucks of her overtaxed brain? Would she have the guts to do what she needed to do when she finished procrastinating by writing this twenty minutes away?
She watches the clock. One minute, or less, to go. There is no second hand on this digital number up in the corner of her screen. PM. Charged. Whew. Finished!