I had a good night last night. I started a new fictional short story tentatively titled "Spooning with My Mother". This story will be about a divorced mother with a 13 year old daugher, who spooned with her own mother at that age. Some of my friends from divorced families have gone through this experience with their mom, and it has always fascinated and at the same time repulsed me. I've never spooned with my mom, and I can't imagine ever doing so either. That sounds bad I know, because all human beings need comfort I guess, but it just sounds so odd to me. My family is also not demonstrative physically, so my mother hugging me is a strange thing. I guess one day I'll write a story about finding it strange to be hugged by your own mom. It's not like my mom never hugged me, because she did when I was little, but when I entered school all that physical type of affection stopped.

I wrote 1,100 words of my story, which is so cool. I'd like to write 1,000 words a day, so last night was definitely a good beginning.

Then I worked out for 40 minutes or the equivalent of about two miles, something I stopped doing for about three weeks. I'm starting again only because it helps me to sleep at night if I work out before I go to bed, and I kind of missed doing it. I walk four miles a day, you'd think that would be enough to tucker me out, but obviously not.

Then I started on my new book, "Things Fall Apart" by Chinua Achebe.

I'm also gave myself half an hour of spiritual/religious time, where I pray or meditate or read spiritual/religious type books. It's a practice I got into when I was 23, and it really helps me to stay calm and be in a good mood. I used to be regular with this habit for years, then I got out of it, and now I do it off and on. I'd like to get back into doing it every night. It seems a good habit to start up again in these uncertain times.

And then I went to bed, and that's my way too boring life.