A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Six-Hundred-And-Thirty-Five

Melissa has an appointment early tomorrow morning and I promised I would go with her, so I rushed myself to get my work done early.  I doubt that many of those who read this will know about C. Northcote Parkinson and his namesake "law," which stipulates that work expands to fill the amount of time one has to do it in.  The example he gave was that an old woman who has nothing to do will spend all afternoon writing a thank you card, spending an hour picking the right card and the proper pen, and drafting it several times before committing it to paper, whereas a business executive would have it done in five or ten minutes without difficulty.  This is a rather silly example, of course, but the whole idea is probably pretty ridiculous, if one considers it carefully.  Still, I can't help but think of the fact that, on nights when I have no other obligation, I seem incapable of getting my work done before it is nearing two in the morning, but tonight I was able to get through it before the clock reaching eleven.

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