I didn't have a writing day yesterday. It was non-existent, except in my head, where the writing treadmill never stills. 

I began the day with phantom writing, writing in my head, and phantom editing and phantom plotting. I avoided heading to the computer. Computers and I were becoming too close. They were getting like my cats, following me into the bathroom and kitchen to see what I'm doing, trying to 'help' me with the weeding. I decided I needed a day away from all of them. 

So I took a break. Didn't walk nor exercise, either. My wife need a mental health day, too, so we hopped into the car and drove around. We ate lunch at somewhere new and explored stores, parks and cities, and enjoyed the sunshine. I considered writing when I came home but I still felt tired. I napped half an hour and then we watched "Monsieur Lazhar", which we enjoyed. 

And that was the day, away from writing and work, away from the house and the cats, away from life in general, just wasting away on planet Earth.