Puttering is my dominant activity of late. Not in the curious, playful way your dad used to putter in the garage on Saturdays. I putter with purpose. That purpose is avoidance.
When I updated my Facebook profile with ‘work’ [aw, that’s cute, love], it was absolutely no accident that I identified myself as Writer/Procrastinator.
A few people have asked me, did I go soaring off the wagon last Thursday, face first, into a pool of jellybeans and hot chocolate? I understand this. Part curiosity, part concern.
Short answer? No.
No cheat days, so substitutes, no maple syrup or naturally sweetened-therefore-harmless-right? treats. There are no excuses. You just do it. You practice saying ‘I’m choosing not to eat that right now’ and try to remember your college boyfriend, with whom you spent 3 years. This is called ‘perspective’ and it is your friend. Happy discovery: if I survived his horseshit for more than 1000 days, I can do anything for 30.
