The Return of the Disappearing Man

Well, that worked.

Ate my ice-cream last night. It was pleasurable of course, but not "found a new way of life" pleasurable, more kind of "Yyyyeah, see where you're going, but not that bothered" pleasurable. Did it, enjoyed it, am done.

We have quite a long list of Stuff To Get Accomplished over what is in Britain a long weekend, but frankly, haven't got a whole Hell of a lot of it done so far. What I did was bugger off for a three-hour walk this morning, which, thanks to the joy of the Interweb and a little bit of math, I can tell you amounted to 8.8 miles of walking. That's about two-fifths of a Night Hike! On that principle, it should take me around seven hours, on the night of the 21st September, to walk the 20 miles I'm due to do...which, given that I'm starting at 7.30PM, should mean I'll be done by 3AM...rather than my 8.30ish from the first time I did it, a bunch of years ago. That'll be a rude awakening for d!

Time to break out the smartphone and and write a Proper List. Let's see...
1. Flip, strip and re-make the bed.
2. Collect assorted crap from various locations around the flat, file and sort in the office, to return rooms to semblance of human occupation, and ensure I can find things when needed.
3. Finish editing chapter four of a friend's novel.
5. Go walking with Ma tomorrow morning, and dine with the folks.
4. Learn to count, clearly...
6. Bike my ass off, either tomorrow, or tonight and tomorrow...though probably not the latter if I'm honest.
7. Write some letters for the business.
8. Re-edit a book for another friend (120k words).
9. Edit a book for my dad (23k words).
10. Write some of my novel. My characters are outside right now in the snow of a New York State February, and they're kinda looking at me as if to say "Seriously? Freezin' our asses off here...get us inside, right now!
11. Beat the entire rest of the world at Draw Something...

OK, technically, that last one's not real List stuff, it's more of a personal goal.

I should probably say this. Rumspringa's done. And it's weird how I know that. Gods now I've made a few "must get back to it" declarations, and found energy and inspiration a few times during the last couple of months of basically being off the regime. This is different. It's quiet, and it doesn't really need to convince anyone. It's like having been lost in the deep end of a swimming pool for a while, and shouting every time I found a float. Now I've put my feet back on the floor, and it's time to just get on with business. Tuesday of course will probably be grim, because a week of proper Rumspringa will do that to you. But there's a calm now, and a focus on the goal again. The Disappearing Man is properly back to Disappearing.

Blood, by the way, was 5.1 this morning, post-ice cream. Makes very little sense, but there it is.