No, that's a lie.
James spent the day upgrading my machine and reinstalling Windows.
I spent the day reading, and shopping for garden hoses, following an unfortunate incident earlier in the week where James left the water turned on overnight and the next morning the hose exploded, which wouldn't have been too bad, except that I'm not terribly observant, and thought the drumming sound meant that we'd finally gotten a break in the weather and it was raining. It wasn't until a few hours later, when the front walk was underwater and all the petals had been stripped off my mums, that it occurred to me that the rain seemed oddly localized to the front door.
Writers and artists are both supposed to be keen observers of the world around them, if you read the literature. I can't speak for writing, but I've slogged along as an artist for a bit now, so I'm pretty sure that's a crock. I have been known go all day wearing a shirt that still has a sock stuck to it from the laundry. On the front.
But I dunno. Maybe I'm just observing a very specific set of things, like the way goldfinches and bumblebees are the same colors, and maybe bumblebees think that the male goldfinches are giant relatives, and the hive buzzes at night with stories that begin "There were goldfinches in the earth in those days, finches of old, finches of renown..."