I was v. hermity today, which made for some productivity, but does not make for a v. interesting blog post. I woke up at 4:30am to a stomachache, compounded by the heat, and so while I had intended to get out of bed at 6:15am to pursue a new productivity regimen, I instead turned my alarm off before I fell back asleep at six so that I could get a bit more rest. I know, you really wanted to know my sleep habits.
But I made it to the cafe by 8:30ish, and I worked there for three hours. Then I came home, ate a snack, took care of some household stuff, and then sped over to my favorite nail place down the street to get a manicure (hey, it's my birthday week...I need to have *some* fun and feel like a lady instead of a robot typist). After the manicure, it was so fucking hot (90+ degrees in SF, which is like a million degrees in a city where no one has air conditioning) that I mostly sat in front of the fan and drank water and thought suicidal thoughts, but it was too hot to act against myself, so I survived.
Eventually, though, I left the apartment, walked down to the Marina, and wrote for a couple of hours (by hand) while drinking wine and eating steak at Aix. This wasn't the plan I'd originally intended to pursue tonight (dinner with a guy who used to report to me, which has been pushed back more than once at this point), but it was probably better for my productivity even if it was worse for my hermitville. And then I walked back, sans sweatshirt, which is a sign of how hot it is here that I was able to walk back at 8:30pm in short sleeves without getting cold at all.
And now, after that incredibly interesting and thought-provoking blog post, I'm going to read or color or something and then go to bed. Goodnight!
But I made it to the cafe by 8:30ish, and I worked there for three hours. Then I came home, ate a snack, took care of some household stuff, and then sped over to my favorite nail place down the street to get a manicure (hey, it's my birthday week...I need to have *some* fun and feel like a lady instead of a robot typist). After the manicure, it was so fucking hot (90+ degrees in SF, which is like a million degrees in a city where no one has air conditioning) that I mostly sat in front of the fan and drank water and thought suicidal thoughts, but it was too hot to act against myself, so I survived.
Eventually, though, I left the apartment, walked down to the Marina, and wrote for a couple of hours (by hand) while drinking wine and eating steak at Aix. This wasn't the plan I'd originally intended to pursue tonight (dinner with a guy who used to report to me, which has been pushed back more than once at this point), but it was probably better for my productivity even if it was worse for my hermitville. And then I walked back, sans sweatshirt, which is a sign of how hot it is here that I was able to walk back at 8:30pm in short sleeves without getting cold at all.
And now, after that incredibly interesting and thought-provoking blog post, I'm going to read or color or something and then go to bed. Goodnight!
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