Dickering

Why do I do this? I have just wasted all morning dickering around, finding things to do that keep me from writing my novel. Now I have decided to do this, why? It isnt that I don't want to write, don't enjoy writing, doubt that I can write it, so why have I washed up, visited numerous time wasting websites, answered emails that can wait, phoned my mother, rearranged the china cupboard? I have everything I need to get on with part three. The research all neatly catalogued, coffee steaming at my elbow, even the word doc is open, the curser flashing. Yet i am here instead, talking to you who probably aren't listening anyway.
I think I need an overseer, someone to apply the whip everytime my mind strays ...ooh no, perhaps not, that might sting. I wake up in the middle of the night (husband sneezing again) and the plot comes alive in my head. I know exactly what the characters will do, how they will do it and why. I am eager to get it down, so eager I can barely sleep, yet morning comes and all that enthusiasm has dwindled away.
I am almost at the end of writing the section narrated by Alys, it took sometime to get her voice right in my head but I have her nailed now. Another few pages and I can move on to Leo's narrative; a more dramatic section than Alys'. I should be raring to go but instead, I feel quite fed up with the whole thing.
what I shall do now, is read through what I did last time, delete/change some probably, make notes on which bits need improving and then, hopefully, fingers crossed, write at least a few more pages. If I can just put Alys to bed I can have my fun with Leo.