Mondays are always meant for business housekeeping. The routine:
I sleep in 20 mins more than normal & get woken up by Vega – whining. She just wants breakfast, the wee beast.
I almost never run on Mondays. I want to get up and get to it. Even if -it- is 3 hours at the computer, answering emails and setting up plans. Researching.
I try hard to remember to get dressed in something that doesn’t resemble glorified pjs. I always do better working from home when I make a point to dress. Funny – coming from a fashion designer. Then again – as I’m on a “back to the drawing board kick” – I want to make things that are easy, comfortable and purposeful for myself and everyone else. In the southern humidity and heat – these ain’t no “fitted charmeuse blouse” times neither.
Grab coffee (thank god for Gracias) and the sketch book.
Tidy the kitchen. I can’t work in a messy house. Speaking of which – I’m aghast to even roll my eyes towards the studio. Man, when I’m artistically frustrated the studio shows it. God forbid I’m looking for that “one image” that has that “one drape to the left shoulder” – oh the annals of my past magazine collection + tear outs are vast and heady with very odd categorizing ways.
Trash day. Opps – scamper to the curb.
Did I wash my face? (Vega – having been fed and attended to, is back in her chair – snoring).
Think about money, bills, upcoming deadlines for 5 seconds, longer than that – and I’ll disappear into the world of the fret monster.
Think about s/s12 and how both it + my plans to find swimming holes are elusive. Feel for the first time in a month, that sly, cool, dark and mysterious nymph slide around my shoulders. Know that if I grab for her or even look her way, she’s gone.