Mystery of time.

You know, I often wonder why it is that when I'm dying to do something, it's never at a convenient time.

And when the minutes or hours ARE there, they aren't available at the RIGHT time - I have to be doing something else entirely. Like laundry.

Case in point, I want to write. NOW. So I'm sitting here wishing I could delve into my fictional worlds of Karma and naughtiness. But alas, I must be off to work for 8 hours of writing not what I'd like.

What divine creature orchestrates this, anyway? Because, IMO, it occurs way too often to be happenstance.

Or, maybe, in a twisted way, I did get my wish?

If so, I obviously need to be more specific when I make my wishes, and let the great divine know it's FICTION I'd prefer to be writing, not answering people's questions at work... yes?

Although, I must admit that there's a distinct possibility that I'm procrastinating on going to work, and my mind is frantically making up lists of things I'd rather be doing instead.