I woke up with a bad feeling. A ticking clock over my head. Time is running out, isn’t it? Stuck in a Metairie hotel with a stove and dishes and pans, and I had some kind of epiphany yesterday that I was going to save money by going to the grocery store and cook my own food. But I forgot to buy dishwashing liquid and a sponge. Just don’t feel like going out to the grocery store again today because this ticking clock is forcing me to sit at my laptop to finish the screenplay. So I’ll just nuke a hot dog or eat some granola cereal. And then I’ll take an Adderall. Then I’ll write for hours and hours and hours. Hopefully.
