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Why is it the day that you are completely cut off from laptop and even paper and pen is inevitably the time a long stalled out fic suddenly comes to life in your head? Why is it that you spend the entire day with the PERFECT string of words circling endlessly in your brain (Omg, that was how this scene was supposed to go!), and you get home really really late, exhausted and almost dead to the world, crash into bed and then dream those perfect sequences over and over again. Then you wake up the next morning, open the languishing file, and EVERY WORD IS GONE.

You are a cruel mistress, Muse.