I cannot be without my notebook. It's as important to me as my wallet and the pen that I carry in my purse. Over the years I have filled many of these small, black books with my jottings. Take this morning, for instance.
I had to take my car in to the garage for its scheduled oil change, and while I waited, I perused my current notebook. In between story ideas, I found bits and pieces that I'd written while sitting in other waiting rooms. There were also notes I'd scribbled while travelling on the train or while "killing time" in parking lots.
I always strive to be on time for things and consequently, I sometimes arrive too early for a presentation. When that happens, I'll find the farthest corner of the parking lot and open my notebook. I'll write down my expectations for the day, the things I see around me, where I am with the story I'm working on at home, anything, until a more reasonable arrival time has come.
Maybe this habit of mine of being too early is how my brain schedules some writing time into an otherwise too-busy-to-write day.