CLEAN ALL THE THINGS.
Okay. IT'S TIME. Apparently my capacity for boredom - usually staved off for at least three or four days at a time while lying on the couch watching TV - has diminished over the past year. This is terrible, because another change seems to be no accompanying surge of writing, which those who know me will tell you is responsible for 80% of my longer pieces since 2001. Seriously. My process goes 1. Finish insanely busy semester/week/month at work, 2. Lie around for a few days, 3. Start to feel guilty for being a useless lump, and then 4. BAM, WRITING MACHINE. It's not happening this time, guys - I'm getting worried.
HOWEVER. I am having people over tomorrow, LIKE AN ADULT, and tomorrow I have to bake tiny things (our usual M.O. for New Year's Eve is TV and Tiny Food tea party), and I am going to GO OUTSIDE and GO TO THE GROCERY STORE, so now, I am going to CLEAN ALL THE THINGS. And I am going to watch H50 while I do it. Which of course led to the vivid mental image of Steve McGarrett as Ally Brosh. Come on, can't you picture Steve holding a mop in the air, yelling CLEAN ALL THE THINGS? Except he wouldn't experience the responsibility crash at the far end of the curve and would keep going until Danny came in, tackled him to the ground, gently removed the mop from his hand, and told him it was time for a nap, now. This art needs to happen. Probably it has happened already.
No napping for me. CLEANING INSTEAD. LET'S GO.
HOWEVER. I am having people over tomorrow, LIKE AN ADULT, and tomorrow I have to bake tiny things (our usual M.O. for New Year's Eve is TV and Tiny Food tea party), and I am going to GO OUTSIDE and GO TO THE GROCERY STORE, so now, I am going to CLEAN ALL THE THINGS. And I am going to watch H50 while I do it. Which of course led to the vivid mental image of Steve McGarrett as Ally Brosh. Come on, can't you picture Steve holding a mop in the air, yelling CLEAN ALL THE THINGS? Except he wouldn't experience the responsibility crash at the far end of the curve and would keep going until Danny came in, tackled him to the ground, gently removed the mop from his hand, and told him it was time for a nap, now. This art needs to happen. Probably it has happened already.
No napping for me. CLEANING INSTEAD. LET'S GO.