It was cool out today, only just cold enough for a hoodie really. I took a walk in the afternoon to get coffee, do a little work at Emma's, and catch my usual Tuesday lunch of Butter Chicken with Garlic Naan. The recipe for true and enduring happiness. But I've been cooped up and seething at the thought of all the work I have yet to do this week, and feeling the drain of difficult conversations with authors and publishers.
Now I've got an aromatherapy candle on, and some cleverly marketed tea in my mug. So I better get some goddamn tranquility pronto.
I'm reading Ashbery tonight. Maybe the worst thing for this mood.
What would tomorrow look like if it was easy?
Up by 8:30. Oatmeal. Head to acupuncture. Lie still on the counter while little needles in my hands and my legs work silently against my blockages. Good coffee—make the last of the Silken Splendor. Then work down my to-do list with brutal efficiency, not hesitating on the bitter tasks at the top, and delegate anything I possibly can. At 7, completely disengage. Gym. Dinner. StarCraft. Star Wars Rebels Episodes.