As with most things in life, one's daily routines become boring and nasty if allowed to calcify due to too much repetition and too little critical self-examination. Let us take, for example, writing, which this poor whorphan has been doing six mornings a week for the past six months, a routine which, due to extenuating circumstance, was shattered last week. Instead of writing in the mornings after having worked for an hour in the yard and eaten a light breakfast, this worthless author spent that time performing yard work at someone else's house, whereupon he would bicycle over to his seasonal job and work there until evening.
After returning home from his paying job well after dark, he would feed himself again, stoke a wood-fire, and spin up his netbook, finally getting around to his daily EBOS, or Entire Battery Operating Session, nearly twelve hours late. (EBOS generally lasts two hours.) Creativity, however, is a different animal at night than it is in the morning – the brain's chemistry does not work the same after a full day's work as it does after an hour out in the pre-dawn cold sawing wood with an authentic Swedish military handsaw.
And now, the same persons who were paying this mendicant to do their yard work have decided to skip town for a few days and have him watch their dog, a neurotic bitch whose primary redeeming factor is that she likes to go for long walks. Walking the dog is no problem; doing yard work is no problem; but staying at their house for five days while they go on a cat-sitting staycation at their son's house an hour away puts him, this author, within arm's reach of all the sweets and other goodies that elderly persons like to keep on hand. And so this greedy fucker's stomach is in knots because he ate a pound of York peppermint patties last night while lying on the couch and drinking one can of ginger ale after the next, to excess. Such behavior concerns the responsible part of whorphan's soul because eating massive quantities of sugar bodes ill for the digestive tract, for the kidneys and liver, and for his ability to lead a life devoid of the sugar disease. He likes to stay at home – even though it is cold enough there that he must at times don a pair of long-johns – because, at home, his food stores are limited and he does not have quick access to nearly limitless quantities of candies, sweets, snacks, or pre-made foodstuffs. Discipline is not his strong suite, and so he keeps himself on track by avoiding temptation altogether and sticking to routine, which, of late, has been far easier said than done. Sigh.
mentiri factorem fecit © 場黑麥
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