3:24 p.m.

Welcome to this week’s Reno News & Review.

Please, help me. I should be working. I’m sitting here in my office. I did all my usual Thursday morning stuff. I went to the gym on my lunch hour (OK, hour and 15 minutes). I ate a doughnut and a half a burrito for lunch. I should be raring to go. But I’m … unmotivated. Kat’s feeling the same way. I chat with her about her cover story this week. Then we move on to less relevant things.

“How old are you going to turn next week?” I call out my office door to Kelley Lang, calendar editor and ultra-mom of a now 4-month-old baby, Sophie. “Too old.” And then she never follows up with her real age. She’s not old. I’ve known her since she wasn’t old enough to get into bars. And that was only, what, 13 years ago or so.

It’s spittin’ snow outside, which reminds me to check my bank balance. I don’t know why. Perhaps for the same reason the gray skies inspire me to clean out my spam folders. Not enough. Never enough. Doughnut sits like a sebaceous mass in my stomach, ruining the good feeling generated by only eating one-half of that burrito-pastor-con-todo-a-ir from down at Michoacan. Its better half calls me from the tiny refrigerator that sits in a cabinet under the sink in my office.

Check the e-mail. Check the home e-mail. Check the RSS feeds on my Google homepage. Check the Yahoo account. Check the time for tonight’s yoga class. 5:30. Five dum ta, dum ta, da thirty. Five three oh. Maybe the coffee’s finished brewing.

Did I tell you I finally broke down and bought satellite radio for my honey? She then turned around and bought it for me for Christmas. No more annoying commercials. Except for Sirius. No more encouragement to buy puppies as gifts. Just good music, all the time.

The idea is to accomplish one thing at a time. Sometimes it helps to work on one thing for next week’s issue and then move to something further in the future. Look at that. One editor’s note complete.