Jason's gone this weekend. I spent all day alone with the kid but he took two excellent naps and we went to Little Gym which helped break up the day. I had to wake him up from his afternoon nap as it inched towards 5:30 as his bedtime is normally 7. I wanted him to go to sleep at some point tonight so I was forced to wake him up after 2.5 hours. He happily ate, played and went to sleep easily at 7 like always.
I started writing sometime after 8 after doing a few chores. I figured Jason's gone, I never really watch TV anymore so nothing good was on TIVO, and here I am 3 hours and 11 and a half pages later! Single spaced, 12 font.
My wrists hurt. My fingers are starting to swell a little and my knuckles are killing me. I haven't typed this much in one sitting in over 8 months. Man I miss my ergonomic keyboard. 11 pages may not seem like a lot, but it is. At least for me to type out in 3 hours. And I am still at the beginning. At this point I'm writing based off of memories and not the outline I came up with. I figure I'll go back and move things around or add in what I miss later. I was on a roll and wasn't going to mess with success. I'd also like to add that tonight was a perfect night to write. I had no PTSD triggers, teared up only a handful of times and actual crying only happened once and for less than 5 minutes. In my book, that's a good writing session (no pun intended).
Off to bed I go.