I woke up this morning thinking it was Monday. Silly me. I took yesterday off from the law firm, so I guess the mistake was reasonable. So imagine my surprise when I stepped out of the shower with the revelation that it was Thursday instead and, like Scrooge in A Christmas Carol, “I haven’t missed it.”
I took an unscheduled vacation day yesterday to catch up with a friend who was in town briefly, and to catch up at home on some things. I didn’t get everything done that I wanted, but it was a nice day, capped off by dinner with my friend A.H. Ream. (If you haven’t visited Ashley’s blog yet, you simply must. It’s always a hoot.) Ashley has a knack for finding dumps and dives with excellent food. Last night we tried Baby Blues BBQ in Venice. We both had the pulled pork, topped off with key lime pie. Excellent! At the table next to ours was fellow author Joan Del Monte.
I wanted to get a lot of writing done yesterday but didn’t. I got some accomplished, but not as much as I wanted. The problem is, I’m tired. Not because of all the writing projects on my plate, but because I’m not getting the sleep I need to tackle my full plate of activities. And it’s not sleep itself that eludes me, the problem is I cannot get my fat ass into bed at a reasonable hour.
I wake up at 5:30 a.m. I don’t set an alarm, it just happens. But lately I’ve started not going to bed until midnight or later. I wake up half dead, both in body and mind. I try to go to bed earlier. I really do, but somehow my intentions go by the wayside almost every night. Last night I was determined to hit the sack at 10 pm., right after the Project Runway finale. The plan was to read for 30 minutes, then beddy-bye for a good solid 7 hours, which is all I need to be refreshed. But no! Once again, I started doing stuff on the computer (not writing, mind you) and before I knew it, it was 12:30 a.m. And that’s an early night compared to some of my recent 1:00 a.m. and 2:30 a.m. bedtimes. Do the math and it adds up to major sleep deprivation.
Okay, tonight, the goal is 10 p.m., not a minute later. A few more 4-5 hour nights and I’ll be shooting people from my balcony.
Just 77 days until Corpse on the Cob is due to my publisher. Yikes! I gotta get some sleep so I can writer faster! That’s all there is to it.