Didn’t bring earphones to 12 & Mission. And they totally mismade my drink the first time, tried to say I was wrong, or imply I was, that I ordered an iced mocha. Today has been, quite animatedly, one of the worst days off in recent memory. I’m taking control, of everything. Probably don’t need these 3 shots, as agitated as I am, but I’m going to sip it anyway. Trying to tune out everything around me.. the horrendous music, the idiotic conversations around me. My last hope: to have a historic run tonight. What if I DID hit 10 miles? I can do it, I know. But do I want to? No, don’t set out to do that. Try what Dad said.. 45 minutes, and if you want to go a bit beyond that, then wonderful.
Man in wheelchair at larger square table across from me, putting this “bad day” in perspective. Have to read my book’s pages. Now would be a great opportunity to do so. Just read, with pen, and caffeine. Have been using “and” a lot, lately. Have always hated the word, but for some reason I’ve added its ingredient a handful of times, lately. Need to calm.. peace, peace…
And yet another folly: I brought with me pp 41-80 rather than 1-40. And I just overheard that clown barista who totally fumbled my drink apologize to someone else. First laugh of the day, for the writer. My word, this music is so impressively awful. I’ll look into these pages a bit, see if there’s something that’ll make the rack to final draft. Where will I run? Guess the same course– OR, I could run further into the park, then turn around. That’s what I’ll do–
Then some idiot sits right next to me, when that huge square table’s right across from this small circle surface, empty since the wheelchair’d man left with his caregiver. Not in the mood to edit. Afraid to, really, for my pages. I’m scared I might butcher them, brutally. From this post, I’ll hop back over to the 3 pages I’m trying to finish for day. Put pages back in bag.