FRIDAY! It’s been a mega-productive — and therefore long — week, and my creative reserves are almost completely tapped out, so I’m being lazy and using a writing prompt I ran across this morning that made me laugh because of its timeliness:
Write about 5 things you would do to entertain yourself if you did not see a soul for 7 days.
Now, if you saw last week’s post, you know my trusty (and sometimes not-so-trusty) Hellica bit the dust last week, rendering me an utterly involuntary pedestrian until I decide on a replacement. Working from home has its privileges, including procrastination when it comes to the stuff of life, like car shopping. And since I’m lucky enough to live atop a retail space with all the shops and restaurants I could ask for, I thought I’d take my time and sort of revisit the days when I lived my “urban core” lifestyle and walked everywhere, sometimes leaving my car in the parking garage for nearly a week at a time. The good news is, my calves look great. The interesting news is, I can respond to this prompt almost completely from real life without using my imagination at all.
1. Talk to myself.
I’m pretty sure I do this anyway, but going the entire week without having had any real conversation or real company — aside from cursory chatter with baristas and neighbors — renders me a babbling mess with no filter as I walk around my apartment, just plain talking to myself. No wait, that’s a lie. I had dinner with my boyfriend Wednesday night. Look at that! Memory loss. Which is a form of entertainment in and of itself, at least for the people around me. Speaking of which, I wonder if we’re still dating…
2. Talk to the dog.
Thank god for the dog. Since the vet recently informed me that Bogey needs to “dance” since he’s got “too much booty in the pants,”* I’ve been doing my part to take him out for longer walks, and I find myself talking to him like he’s a therapist. I’m sure it looks completely normal to all the people walking and driving by. Totally.
3. Develop crushes on “the men of daytime.”
Don’t anybody panic or get in your car to come over here for an intervention… I’m not watching soap operas. The CW, however, has this thing called “the men of daytime,” where they line up Nate Berkus, Dr. Drew and Anderson Cooper one right after the other to tell me how to get off drugs and mix and match the fabrics in my home.** Truth? I’ve had miniature nerd crushes on the latter two for a few years, so I was already kind of pre-qualified to get sucked into their self-helpy afternoon shows. I don’t even want to know what their target demographic is, because I’m pretty sure that knowledge would make me want to die.***
4. Write write write write write, and keep weird hours.
I should explain that afternoon television is actually my version of morning television. I’m a born night owl, so for me, this whole being-a-writer thing is like putting a big long table of fried butter balls (an actual food) in front of Paula Deen. I hit my groove around 8 pm, when the world outside is settling in for the night, and I generally wrap up work in the wee hours of the morning. I basically keep a schedule that is exactly opposite that of a normal person. Yesterday, I wrote ten (yes, ten) blog posts and did a fair amount of client service stuff on top of that. Had I tried to carry that workload during normal hours, I would’ve accomplished only half as much. Weird thing is, from the sound of it, my neighbors are nocturnal too (get your mind out of the gutter! The dude next door plays guitar late at night and the guy above me… well, he walks around a lot between the hours of 10 pm and 2 am.)
Maybe we should start a breakfast club… and call it a supper club.
5. Make stupid jokes about supper clubs. Also, sing. Like, a lot.
Anyone who’s ever lived with me knows I sing around the house. But lately, I’ve been doing it way more than usual. Might be a sign of increasing weirdness and detachment from reality… might be a sign that I’m just really happy.
Upon consideration, I say both.
There we have it… 5 things and a completed writing prompt/post. I know I flogged myself a couple weeks ago for writing about me me me me me all the time, but I’m banking on the theory that me me me me me doesn’t count as narcissism when you’re full-on admitting to the world that you’re insane.
* Not the vet’s real words.
** And sometimes give me insight into world news. Thanks, AC! You’ve come a long way since Channel One.
*** Oh my god, I’m a stay-at-home soccer mom, sans kids. And soccer. Awesome.