I’m exhausted. Seriously. I don’t know what’s happened in the last hour, but suddenly my eyes ache, my shoulders have slumped and my brain has turned to a fuzz reminiscent of my ex-boyfriend’s belly button fluff.
I had every intention of writing something profound about my interesting week thus far, but really it can be summarised by the title of this post.
I’ve already done a lot this week and it’s only Wednesday. There’s still a lot more left to do and, while I feel a tad overwhelmed by the voice whispering you’ve taken on too much again, I’m also feeling refreshed by the sudden frantic pace my life has taken. It’s like old times, except I’m doing things I want to do, so it’s a happy exhaustion. An exhaustion of success and pleasure and achievement.
A Glass of Wine
I’ve been monitoring what I eat and drink for the past two weeks in an effort to feel good. It’s working! I feel great! Despite all this, I was unwell over the weekend and had to open a bottle of wine to add a dash to my bubbling pot of chicken soup (it then sat in my fridge untouched because I wasn’t drinking alcohol, coffee or even milk/dairy during my two day sleep-a-thon). It couldn’t go to waste, so I just had the last glass (I had a glass or three with lunch yesterday) and I’m feeling just dandy. No more wine for the rest of the week though – I am trying to keep it for weekends only.
Health wise, however, I am feeling excellent. I am feeling less bloated since I stopped my daily visits to the dumpling man and my energy has increased despite the horrid humidity that continues to plague me. Go healthy-eating me!
I bought post-it notes a few weeks ago and only recently got around to digging them out from the bottom of my handbag. With the idea of using them to stick on my wall to help with plots and characters and general reminders (because “kill off JT in chapter four” makes sense when positioned next to “buy milk”), there is currently only one stuck in a prominent position.
I write 7,000 words every week.
Rather than write a single piece every week, I wanted to permit myself flexibility when it came to writing a short story and writing more on my various novels in progress. So I have the goal of 1,000 words every day, though varies each day and some days I simply don’t write at all – like today, when I’m busy being exhausted, drinking wine, and staring at post-it notes.
Since Monday, I’ve written 6,000 words on one of my novels.
The power of post-it notes, people!
What three things describe your week thus far?