Write four lines of prose about: conscience.
I ended up splitting my afternoon between photography stuff (researching and then agreeing to purchase a secondhand camera from the guy that's been helping me recently) and writing (actually, factually working on making use of the feedback I received on my 2009 Nanowrimo novel).
The camera won't be in my hands for at least a few weeks, as my friend and his family are going on a road trip to California shortly. Which is fine, I'm in no rush for it. I suppose an upgrade was inevitable but I hadn't planned on getting one already. The price was not going to be beat though.
It feels good to finally get around to looking at that novel again. I've put it off for far too long.
Clearly, that would be the wrong thing to do. Just because nobody is around to see it happen is no good reason to do it. This shouldn't even be a question and I can't believe we've already wasted more than a few seconds thinking about it.
Wait, what are you... why don't you ever listen to me?