It’s occurred to me lately that I’m a little bit set in my ways. Okay: a LOT set in my ways. I’m a creature of habit, slave to my routine. The truth hurts, right? Now, I’ve always said that one of the reasons for this is that it takes discipline to write, and having a set schedule makes said discipline that much easier. When I’m working on a book, I write every day from about 2-5pm. Occasionally I take a day off, but only when I absolutely have to, and even then I usually feel so wracked with guilt and stressed out that I don’t enjoy whatever else I’m doing anyway. Yes, it’s crazy, and unhealthy. Believe me. I know.
But my mental issues are not the real subject of this entry. (If they were, you’d be settling in to read for a LONG time. Be glad I spared you.) Rather, I’ve been thinking a bit about what I miss, being so stuck in this routine. For instance, usually I do all my errands and everything else in the morning, so I can write on schedule, and then have the evening to do everything else that needs doing (i.e. cooking dinner, doing laundry, balancing checkbook, watching Veronica Mars, etc) . Last night around seven pm, though, I ended up going to the grocery store. I had a variety of reasons: it’s a busy week, the only time I can go, blah blah blah. Anyway, I get there, walk in with my list, and immediately, I can tell something is different. I’m normally at the grocery store on weekday mornings, when it’s populated with moms and babies, senior citizens, and, I suppose, incredibly neurotic writers like myself. (There are a lot of us, you’d be surprised.) Suffice to say, it’s a mostly quiet, mellow crowd.
But last night, the grocery store was like a party, I swear to you. The music was louder, the place busier, and full of people buying not just juice packs and oatmeal and toilet paper but bottles of wine and flowers and multiple bags of potato chips. Everyone seemed very cheerful and hip, and people were hanging out in the aisles, chatting away. And this was on a Tuesday night! I saw so many couples wandering around holding hands and carrying things like one bottle of olives and a baguette: it was like a Kate Hudson movie or something. Meanwhile, there I am with my big cart and my ratty Paul Frank t-shirt and my flip-flops, since I didn’t get the memo that shopping past five pm is more of a social event, and you should prepare yourself accordingly. Now I know. And the next time I’m sitting at home, thinking I have nothing to do, I will put on something cute and go to the grocery store, because clearly, that’s where it’s all happening.
Meanwhile, an update on a show I mentioned a few weeks back: Tuesday Night Book Club. Apparently, I wasn’t alone in being underwhelmed, as it’s been canceled. Maybe you DO need to have books in show about book clubs after all. Who knew? Although it must be kind of weird for those women to open up their lives for two episodes—debating leaving husbands, and showing your awful marriage—and then it’s just over, with no closure for you or the viewer. If it’s weird to be a reality show star, it must be downright bizarre to be a quasi-reality show star, one that people know a tiny bit about but nothing more. Got to be a bit of a letdown, so I kind of feel for them. Then again, now that those women don’t have to deal with a rabid fan base and people all in their business, they’ll have that much more time to read. And when they get tired of that? There’s always the grocery store.