There’s something very powerful and wicked about the weekend. Your brain turns to mush, you do weird, silly things, and you eat like there’s no tomorrow. Rather, I should say that I ate like there was no tomorrow this past weekend. I’m mostly good during the week with the eating…and then comes the dizzying combination of Saturday and Sunday, when I appear to go stark-raving mad with the food. Granted, I attended a gathering or two, which meant that I had to eat, you know, not to be rude or anything. I could literally feel the bean (another name for the belly) happily expanding. We shall see what next weekend will bring.
Another wicked, powerful thing? A busy schedule during the week and said weekend. It’s the reason behind my lack of writing since last Thursday. It takes over everything; even though a little voice in the back of your head continually reminds you to turn on the laptop when you finally get home, you ignore it and jump in the car for the next excursion. And when you do finally arrive at home at the very end of the day, you opt instead to watch Masterpiece Theater’s new rendering of Jane Austen’s Persuasion, which was AWESOME. Sigh. It was Austenriffic. In other words, I love my schedule and there are a number of things that fill up the day, so the writing sometimes tends to become expendable. It happens. Nevertheless, I was thinking about writing, which is half the battle, I presume.
Incidentally, years ago, my former manager told me that he woke up at dawn every morning to do some writing. He added that most serious writers do the same. Riiight. This one values her sleep and her beautifully odd dreams. So, no. There simply has to be a more lucid way.