Girl on a Hot Shed Roof

I locked myself out of the house. Yup. Through the window, I could see my keys, rebellious, not at all where they were supposed to be. I could also see my beloved laptop and outline note cards. So much for an afternoon of working on my manuscript. Or maybe...

Maybe the sliding glass door upstairs was unlocked. I surveyed the shed, which came pretty close to the balcony, and decided to make the climb. I stepped onto the fence and pulled myself up. Seconds later, I was crouching on the shed's roof on all fours. Unfortunately, the gap between the shed and balcony looked way smaller from the ground.

I admitted defeat and climbed back down. My friend H (who is fabulous and generous and a mean badminton player) came and picked me up. We went to Panera where I spent the whole afternoon separated from my laptop. After the initial mourning period, I relaxed and did a different kind of writing. On blank note cards, I wrote about the events of my last week, how I felt about everything, all that. I spilled my guts via pen. Cathartic? Um, yes.

I don't do that very often. Since I'm a fiction writer, that's mostly what I write. It took physical separation from my laptop for me to switch gears. I'm wondering if any of you journal. If so, do you find it helpful? Do you ever draw from journal writings when you create a story? Or maybe you're like me--someone would need to lock up your laptop first. :)