Not long ago, Pete mentioned an article he’d read about forming habits. How you needed to do something so many days in a row before it became a true habit. The idea was that you write daily, or excercise, or perform some sort of task on a daily basis, without fail, until it became engrained and part of your daily routine.
They didn’t mention the bad stuff. Like how I enjoy lying down on the couch after work, before I have to get dinner ready, and falling asleep for thirty minutes with Scrubs on in the background.
It’s a terrible habit. It adds no words to my novel, it fails to wash the dishes or clean the kitchen, and while napping, for some reason, my clothes don’t iron themselves. I justify the little nap with things like “I’m going to contemplate the next scene” or “If I nap now, I can write a few pages later.” It’s all crap. I just want to take a nap.
The thing about taking naps, though, is that annoying bit where you have to wake up. Not only wake up, but wake up, shake yourself into awareness, and get dinner started in the hopes that no one realizes you’ve just been drooling on the faux fur pillow. As much as I enjoy sleeping, I abhore waking up. So much so, I refuse to ever use a snooze alarm.
If waking up is such a pain, why should I want to sleep another 9 minutes then do it again? And then there’s the math involved with trying to figure out how many times you can hit the snooze and still make it to work on time.
So tonight’s the night I break that habit. I’ve broken it before, by forcing myself to do chores when I get home, and not even SIT on the couch until after dinner. When I’m out of that habit, things get done around the house. I come home from work, get stuff taken care of, then sit without guilt to work on the novel, surf the ‘net or watch some TV. And even though, right this very minute, I’m craving a nap – tonight when I get home, it’s the dishes !
Give me dishes or give me death! Or, er, something like that.