Oh, thank Heaven it’s Lame Post Friday and Wine O’clock. If only it was also Steve-fifteen, my life would be perfect. Full disclosure: I have not yet poured myself a glass of wine. That’s next. First I need to make a blog post.
I have been experiencing great resistance to writing lately (yes, I know, some people call that laziness; they could be right but I am not up to arguing semantics today). Twice this week I’ve brought plays to work to read, to avoid staring at a blank page in my notebook. I really have to stop doing that. I mean, sometimes it’s fine. I read the play on breaks, I put the play away and work. Sometimes not so much.
When I was reading Leading Ladies I made rather a spectacle of myself by laughing out loud as I read. That did not bother me nearly as much as when I read Wrong Turn at Lungfish and started to cry. I sat at the break table with the tears streaming down my face. Finally I got up and went to the usual refuge for crying, the ladies room. I went into the back and sobbed. That would not have been so bad, except the guy was in there cleaning at the time. How embarrassing.
Nothing particularly embarrassing happened with the plays I read this week. The problem was, though, they were so good I could not put them down. Well, one must put down reading materials and return to work. Those are the rules. This is why I stopped bringing books to work (no, not the crying thing; I rarely cry over what I read).
I have managed to write at least a little bit on my banana play each day. I hope to write even more this weekend, among other activities planned. One thing I have definitely planned is to write some non-lame blog posts. However, those plans are for the future. For today, this is what you get. Happy Friday, everyone.
