I didn’t do a challenge today. Nor, even though it’s only 9:50 PM and there are 5 hours left in my ludicrously scheduled day, do I plan to.
Since I build up expectations with friends and readers that I will be doing this everyday, it makes me uncomfortable. So that still counts! Right? RIGHT?
So I’m not going to count this towards my total days. This is not day 12 of Shredded Comfort, it’s Day X. The hidden day! The black hole of days! The mysterious day, where anything can happen!
But, you know, nothing actually does. God didn’t even throw me a bone and lead me into a bathroom or anything. I did briefly consider walking into a sketchy motel I walked by and ask them if I could have a free room for 20 minutes to take a nap. But it was really sketchy. As far as I could tell by peaking through the window it was actually run by drug-dealing mob-connected cockroaches. I was worried they might sell me off to Eli Roth or something.
I admit it’s tremendously liberating to be able to take a day off. I do hate the idea of being bound to my own rules, even if I also love the way those rules motivate me. And it’s acceptable, I think, as long as I don’t use it as an excuse to blow the whole thing off or sink back into inactivity.
If I try, I urge all of you who care about me, for the love of all that’s holy, not to let me get away with it.