It all nearly fell apart, after maintaining my initial daily routines, write, write, read meditate, stretch and not always in that order, I went to bed to meditate as I hadn’t done it at that point. This all seems to stem from swimming in the morning, as I messed up my routine. I fell asleep with headphones in, woke late to find 10% battery, and managed to not set an alarm. Not the greatest of starts, however, I had technically meditated subconsciously. It still counts. The streak continues.
It feels like it’s starting to fall apart in slow motion. I am finishing off the 250 words, which isn’t a lot I must admit. It’s 23.18 the first part written somewhat 16 hours ago, that’s ludicrous. I have spent, the evening watching Misery (spoiler alert) after a trip to the gym. I now wonder if this happens to all budding writers. I don’t recall watching it before other than the French and Saunders parody. I would never have coped with typewriters, my typing has so many typos. How many people have been constrained by the typewriter I wonder. My writing has so many edits, so many changes I can’t start to imagine how challenging it was to write a book before the computer. I can’t maintain meditation or writing at the hour approaching midnight when I insist on getting up at five thirty. Something will give, I still strive for the elusive 21 days. The magical number of days I have been told forms a habit.