DAY THIRTY-TWO

The high today is zero degrees. Fahrenheit. The only thing I really had to ‘do’ was walk to the YWCA and run for forty minutes. This morning I read two short stories and made coffee and swept my apartment and did everything I could think of to procrastinate going out into the cold. I even resorted to dancing faux-ballet in a red camisole, but that ended promptly in fits of giggles. That was when I realized I had exhausted all tactics. I left and the run was good.

Today also marks the thirty second day of consecutive writing. Hip, hip! Hip, hip!* I am proud that I did what I said I would do and the results are just as I had hoped. That is, I feel more comfortable clicking away at these black keys and more comfortable tapping the send button. My creative brain feels more oiled, less stagnant, and to celebrate, I am going to take a week off. I’m spending Christmas with my parents and my paternal grandparents in Missouri. Rock the smock.

One more thing. This afternoon while folding laundry, I saw an old man walking down the street in a very loud orange hat. This sight inspired me to sing a song while pointing at him in an over exaggerated fashion. It is meant to be sung in a falsetto voice and repeated as many times as you feel necessary. It goes like this, “Orange hat! Orange hat! It makes your head look like a puuuuuushpin! Orange hat!”

* What does this mean?