I saw it slide out of my hands. Moreover, I made a choice to let it go.
Sure, it's not that big a thing, but I was proud of what I had accomplished so far. I felt like I was already achieving something great after such a short time. I felt a sense of greater discipline (and I always start by making my bed*) and an increased motivation to seek the interesting in otherwise mundane or routine activities.
I started the day in a positive frame of mind; it's hard not to when the sun is shining, you've got your favourite new song playing in your headphones and you're moving swiftly by foot in the fresh morning air. I was feeling creative. I had 3 or 4 ideas running around my head; the hard part was choosing which to commit to paper.
Using Google's speech to text, I crafted a very rough draft on my phone (after all, an Australian accent against a backdrop of commuter traffic can be challenging to decipher). I saved the note for later.
The later I had imagined was one at home, sitting with a tea after a healthy dinner, getting ready for a solid 8 hours sleep. The later that manifested was quite different; the sun was shining when I left work and my colleague, and good friend, suggested a drink in the sun. We found the perfect spot, perched on a roof terrace surrounded by fashionable yuppies and uni students. The gin and tonic drink specials enticed us to stay, and soon more friends arrived. 'A quick one or two' turned in to Ubering home at 1030pm and eating crumpets too soon before bed.
At no point did I forget my commitments. Far from it. As I loaded my plate in the dishwasher and my attention shifted to how I should spend the last hour of the day, I had to make a choice. I chose me. I chose to put my pride aside, and I chose rest. 'After all, it's just a 4 day writing streak' I told myself.
*If you do not know what I am on about here, google Admiral William McRaven's address to the students of The University of Texas, “start by making your bed”.