No shaving of facial hair. Easy. I never do that anyway.
No consumption of added sugar. Also easy for me, but not so easy for the girl whom I entered this pact with—she works at a bakery around savory, sugary pastries of delight. This was a more agreeable challenge for her, though, as bakeries aren't really the environment for bearded ladies.
No eating, sleeping, sleeping, or fun— only NaNoWriMo. This I failed at, partly because it always sounds to me like Nano Rhino, so I fail to take it seriously, but also because I enjoy eating, sleeping, and fun so much more.
It's November 1st, 10:51 PM. I sit down at my writing desk with the intention of writing. This doesn't happen at all. What happens instead is this:
My sideburns grow a little and I climb into bed.
Conditions are changing, so subtly and gradually that I don't notice until it's too late. It's suddenly now becoming very warm. Colors are rapidly growing red in hue, the light more intense.
My heart races.
My face puckers.