Tomorrow’s steel cut oats simmer on the stove.

Freshly peeled ginger steeps in a mug of hot water.

It’s Wednesday evening, and I’ve been totally–unapologetically–unproductive for two days in a row.

I’m looking for a way back into my writing. Into that story that has to be finished.

When will I make the time? When will I feel dedicated enough?

And then Ira Glass speaks soothes my writing soul.