I had a long, writing-filled day, and I can feel the energy leeching from my bones as I become one with the couch, so I should probably take myself off to bed. I woke up at 6:30am, after not sleeping well all night; Matt and I were both awoken at midnight by the sound of the shelves in my shower collapsing and dumping all the bottles of shampoos, body washes, and various unguents into the tub. Matt was remarkably calm about it, considering that it sounded like someone was breaking in; I was calm too, because it has done this before, although never in the middle of the night while a guest slept in my living room. After that excitement, I slept fitfully the rest of the night, and so was ready to take Matt to work (with a v. brief stop at Starbucks to get him some caffeine) before going to the gym.
I felt v. virtuous for getting to the gym at 7:30, where I did 25 minutes of elliptical, 15 minutes of stretching, and 10 minutes of waiting for a shower (which is the peril of going at a time when everyone else goes to the gym). Then I came home, ate some oatmeal, procrastinated a bit, and then wrote until lunchtime. I actually made lunch from the new cookbook that my parents gave me for Christmas, and it was outstanding; the cookbook's portions are specifically designed for two people (or one person, with a second helping as leftovers for the next day). So, I made white chili -- onion, ground turkey breast, chicken broth, a variety of spices, green chiles, white beans, and a splash of lime juice -- and it was perfect, warm and satisfying, with just the right amount to eat today and save for tomorrow's lunch. It was quite nice to make something and know that I won't have to eat it for the next week; the key with this is to plan ahead so I get the right ingredients, but it could revolutionize (or at least improve) the way I cook for myself during the week.
I meant to get back to writing after that, but with the terrible sleep I had last night, I ended up napping for over an hour. I did eventually rouse myself and head over to Stanford, grabbing an early supper and writing another couple of pages of Madeleine and Ferguson's story. All told, I probably wrote six pages today -- not perfect, but not too shabby, and I feel good about what I did write.
Finally, I went to the first meeting of the writing class that I'm taking this quarter; I'm really on the fence about whether to stay in the class because a) it's not directly useful or relevant to the book I'm trying to finish and b) my cynicism may not mesh well with the instructor's more, shall we say, joyous outlook on life. However, the readings look interesting, I could use some more practice with the issues we intend to discuss, and despite my cynicism we ended up having a pretty good discussion tonight, so I'll give it another week before making up my mind.
Now, though, I should sleep; I'm training with Alyssa tomorrow morning, and then jumping back into my writing. Goodnight!
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