This is my day.

[torquill]

I woke up about an hour ago. I'm going to go cook my breakfast, then I will go out and work on the front strip (after two years of delays, I'm finally ready to put in irrigation lines) until it's either too hot or I'm too tired. Then, I will come inside, eat lunch, and work on my bread book. Perhaps I'll bake, perhaps I'll write, perhaps I'll play with the desktop publishing program I picked up.

Today is my reward for sticking it out through three years of stress, deprivation, and doing things I couldn't care less about -- if I didn't feel active hatred for them -- day after day. Today, and tomorrow, and next week, and next month.

Delayed gratification actually works sometimes.