writing makes my eyes hurt and my brain wilt.
Me too 🙂 & staying up late watching bad TV when writing feels like flossing with barbwire.
Yeah, I gotta tell ya, bad TV has not helped me either. I recently had to swear off streaming “The Office” because I realized the jokes weren’t even making me laugh and I was basically using back-to-back episodes as a means of wasting my own time and dismantling my own work schedule. Triple sad.
Ergh. I know the feeling.
During a recent co-dieting round with The Missus, I was eating a hard-boiled egg a day for lunch. By the weekend, I was sick of hard-boiled eggs. Just looking at them made my throat constrict. Even though I knew they (in concert with the rest of regimen) were “healthy” and “good for me,” I still wanted murder the very concept of hens.
Some writing days are like that.
But then you crave another boiled egg (against all odds of your ever wanting a boiled egg again), and can’t be happy until you have one RIGHT AWAY.
Right. Hard-boiled eggs are one of those weird foods which overturn Lay’s First Law of Food Tolerance (“You can’t eat just one”). Not only can you eat just one, if you do it day after day you can’t stop thinking of that scene from Cool Hand Luke. So you stop, because you’re an adult and don’t want to die in jail.
And then Monday rolls around, or November, or three years from now…
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