Day twenty-one

Here we are, folks. The halfway point in the forty-two day journey, the destination of which is me getting my writing mojo back.

For twenty-one days now I’ve sat down at the keyboard and written something. And not always just one thing.

Before starting this entry I wrote a rant about religion. This is the fourth rant I’ve written this month. For the past couple of years I’ve been hard pressed to squeeze out one rant a month. Four? That’s utterly amazing. Mind you, if anything was ever likely to get multiple rants out of me in one month, it was the election of Donald Jackass Trump. (Isn’t that what his middle initial stands for?) So perhaps I shouldn’t give all the credit to the meds and/or the Black Dog Diary.

I know from past experience that this is going to be a tough week. By “tough” I don’t mean particularly bad or difficult, just exhausting. It’s what my former panto stage manager and I came to call popcorn week.

Unlike the rehearsal venue, which is a ten-minute drive from my home, the performance venue is a good half hour away. This means leaving earlier for earlier starts for tech rehearsals tonight and tomorrow, the dress rehearsal on Wednesday and opening night on Friday. This means eating dinner ridiculously early, which I find it impossible to do. So, for four of the next five nights, I will have a sandwich or something similarly small at 4:45, then make myself popcorn when I get home around 9:30. Popcorn week.

It’s just gone noon. I didn’t eat breakfast until a few minutes ago (so engrossed in ranting about religion was I when I first got out of bed). The thought of the gym is making my eyes roll. I will be lucky if I manage three visits this week.

The next few entries are unlikely to have a link to a previously written rant (although god knows what Jackass will get up to this week) and may not be very long. But I will keep to my original minimum fifteen-minutes-a-day target, whatever else happens.

Wish me luck getting through the week.

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Later: No, I didn’t make it to the gym. Didn’t even try. What I did instead is make up a batch of putanesca sauce, so I don’t have to think or worry about what I’m going to eat for the next few nights. Useful, I’m sure you’d agree, dear reader.

Not so useful (in fact, not useful at all) was the hour (at least) I spent on computer games. No, not Stupid Fucking Spider Solitaire – still an all clear on that particular front. An hour catching up on much of the archive of unplayed games of Code Cracker and Word Search. I don’t know if word games are as bad as card games. I don’t think so. But an hour spent on any computer games is not good. Gotta keep an eye on that.