A day of indulgences? I (sort of) feel as if I wasted the day. I didn't go out any further than the apartment door to put the trash in the hallway. I did get dressed. I didn't nap. I did load the dishwasher, sweep the floor, and clean the litter boxes.
I finished a YA fantasy book that was quite well-plotted, unusual, and not terribly written. That's research for Monsterwood, really. And I spent most of the rest of the day listening to Room by Emma Donoghue. My book group is discussing it on Tuesday, although I won't be able to go, I am trying to keep up. (Really catching up will involve reading The Red and The Black. I read it a long time ago. I started it again and found it amusing. But very long.)
Tomorrow is a pizza making day up in Brewster with the Alcott Family. So there go any dreams of accomplishing things such as desk or "creative materiel" organization.
But, I think if I were less tough on myself, I did accomplish a few things. I AM still recovering from the cold. I did get a lot of reading and cat-cuddling done. I ate reasonably. I didn't spend any money. And, notwithstanding the remaining bottles of Trader Joe's wine barking in the corner of the kitchen, I refrained from any drinking. Not because I am giving up alcohol. But I am giving up the habit of alcohol.
I think it's all my expectation of myself. And then I go into a little spiral, or a whirl at least, of rebellion and self-destructive thought. I did fine. I made some progress. I enjoyed my reading and listening to an audiobook. Why can't I glory in that a bit?
Pushin' too hard? (The video is great!)
And all I actually have to offer as a writer, is my version of life. — Anne Lamott
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