Originally, Good Intentions
This is attention seeking at its best.
It's the weekend, so I will take the time to continue working on my manuscript that I abandoned for several months. Although, the usual distractions are calling me: reorganizing my closet Marie Kondo style, cleaning up the kitchen, taking out the trash, and doing laundry. I'm working on little meditations to calm my busy head, stay focused, breathe, clear the mind, and form a mental barrier around my writing.
I'm trying to develop a routine during the week: come home, take 20 minutes to unwind, talk to the family for another 20 minutes about their day, sit down, write and edit for an hour, do chores, have dinner, and more time with family, in bed by 8PM with my current read ("Empire of the Summer Moon: Quanah Parker and the Rise and Fall of the Comanches, the Most Powerful Indian Tribe in American History") and asleep by 9PM. I was in a groove with my developmental edit last week, but I made a fatal error this week. I ate vanilla bean ice cream with chocolate syrup. I know. Gasp!
Some may understand: this was a bad idea for my aged stomach. That action sent my body into a tailspin the entire week. The deep recesses of my belly screamed, "Stop!" but I ignored it. Each day, I kept returning for more, and each bowl of ice cream was more significant than the last, with even more chocolate syrup on top. A small lake of swirling goodness developed at the bottom of every bowl: the sweet, chocolaty, gooey spoonfuls rewarded my bland palate. I did this three days in a row, and it's only this morning my abdominal region is behaving politely, despite my foolish endeavor.
My unwinding time this week was spent in agony. My routine was evaporated. In fact, I was in insufferable pain at work, but I soldiered on and kept my composure throughout the day. Once home, I collapsed into a puddle on the couch and watched reruns of The Office, my go-to distraction for any illness, even if self-inflicted. As I write this, Paisley comes in and out of the room, sniffing in my direction, which means, "Stop ignoring me and give me attention." This may be an opportunity for a photo op. I'll see if I can coerce her into sitting in my chair to take advantage of her subtle hints for TLC. Selfish, indeed, but she’s getting a playdate today at a local garden store. For Paisley, smelling all the flowers and plants is pure joy. Afterward, it's back to the manuscript.
