There is a monster under my bed. Its blood-coated claws reach from under the mattress and creep their way toward my throat. When he finally pulls himself up – a self-righteous smile on his face – I see that he is uglier than I had imagined.
“What do you want from me?” I ask, my voice trembling.
“Your time…” he says. “I want to swallow it whole, lick my fingers, and come back for more.”
Between you and me, this guy has gotten more than his fair share of my time. He pops up in the form of emails, household chores, errands, The Vampire Diaries (a girl’s gotta watch a little TV now and then), and the lusty call of my girlfriends with their damn frosty margaritas.
But I’m serious about finishing my second draft. So, this week I carved out a huge block of time that the procrastination monster cannot touch.
Besides, I’m really getting tired of that a-hole sleeping under my bed.