My brain....
mood: 
exanimate
exanimatemusic: Paul Simon - American Tune (Live)
Our Heroine's Brain: You have got to be kidding me.
OH: Nope! Let's get cracking! Deadline is looming!
OHB: You realize my last day off was March 9th?
OH: The deadline waits for no brain!
OHB: You realize that I have written an average of 2,194.176 words a day for you every day since March 9th?
OH: So? There's still one hundred eighty pages of book we need to write. And today is that scene in Engineering, where you get to introduce what's-her-name.
OHB: So, I have needs, you stupid selfish neocortex. And besides, you can't make me. I'm on strike.
OH: Just one little sentence?
OHB: Not on your life. Wheedling won't work. I'm taking the day off. This is not negotiable.
OH: ...
OHB: We are, you know, on schedule. Even a little ahead.
OH: ...
OHB: And you are a scary obsessive personality who needs to lighten up.
OH: You're only just noticing that now? Besides, most of that is your fault.
OHB: Besides, you have to run errands this afternoon. And then you have a dinner date. So as soon as you got started you would have to quit and go do something else.
OH: ...well, I guess we could do laundry. We really need to do laundry.
OHB: See? You have been working on the novel so much that you don't even have clean socks. Also, you need to go to the post office and the bank.
OH: Well...
OHB: Yes?
OH: ...what if we take the day off, and try again after dinner?
OHB: ...I'll think about it.
Everybody with a neocortex.
The problem with mine? So. Very. Persuasive.
However, my conversation with my brain ended with the compromise of writing AFTER the errands but BEFORE the gym and the game night.
I *could* bring my notebook to physical therapy with me, and find a nice coffeeshop for a couple of hours, though, between that and dinner.
Hmm.
Longhand!
I think we need to learn to be Travis McGee, and take our retirement in stages.
I don't think that's it for me; I've yet to be working on your kind of packed schedule. More like a combination of, but what if something goes wrong and you get no work done for a week? and obsessively building up a margin of safety and the sense that if I can still do quota (or more) then what excuse could justify not doing it?
I don't do the astrology thing, but on a descriptive level, man, I am SUCH a Virgo.
OH: You're only just noticing that now? Besides, most of that is your fault.
Heeeeeeeeeeee.
If necessary, you can just send it on to your father and make him waste valuable time playing with it.
Write like a maniac while you can -- even if it's only for one spin cycle.