How John Leguizamo, actor, spends his Sundays

Of all his solo shows, Leguizamo, 53, said the current one, addressing a gap in his eighth-grade son’s education, is the closest to his contemporaneous life — which now includes his wife, Justine Maurer, a Greenwich Village town house, a beach house, a son at boarding school, a daughter at home and two dogs. And also a role in the Paramount miniseries “Waco.”

FRUIT LOOPS: I get up at 9 o’clock. I wash up, get my piece of fruit and walk the dogs first thing. Then I go train, get my body woken up.

MEAL EN MASSE: If I can get everybody up by 11, we go have breakfast together, either Morandi or Joseph Leonard. I have to have something light that’s quickly digestible, so I probably have some eggs, avocado toast. Hipster food. If not, then I’ll just have an egg sandwich at home.

THE COMMUTE: I go quickly back home, and I leave by 12. I train it up. I jump in the A, the E or the C. Then I start my whole other regimen of waking up.

ACHES AND PAINS: I have physical therapy, then some training. Physical therapy is for my knees, my rotator cuff, my back. General abuses from the dancing and throwing myself onstage with adrenaline. When the audience gets excited, it gets me excited, and I start throwing myself in ways I shouldn’t, really, at my age or any age. And I start thinking I’m invulnerable, and I’m not.

WARM UP: Then I go through all the dance sequences. First I warm up with songs that I love to dance to, just to get my spirit up and my body moving.

TALK AND CHALK: I have a practice blackboard backstage. I always practice drawing all the genitals. I’m still trying to learn how to teach and talk and look at the audience. I respect teachers who used to write on chalkboards now. I didn’t realize how important it is to have eye connection while you’re writing.

BACKSTAGE: They get me off the stage 30 minutes before curtain time. I steam, I neti pot, I vocalize in the bathroom because it’s the best echo in the place. The dresser dresses me.

INWARD: The last thing before I go on, I start meditating to get myself centered and connected with my soul. It’s kind of a religious moment for me — spiritual, religious, whatever you call it.

LIGHTS UP: And then I go out there and hope for the best — hope for some inspiration, and for new things to happen.

GOALS: I do have different goals every show. I’ll say, I’m going to be as loose as possible. Or, I’m going to keep this show as intimate as possible. Then comes a Friday night show where I know people are going to be rowdy, and I’m going to go out there and be as rowdy as them.

DONE: When I come offstage, I hand the rest of my props to the prop guy. The assistant stage manager asks me what went wrong, what went right, what can we fix. I give him my breakdown. The dresser helps me take off my jacket. We go upstairs and he undresses me. I steam and I try to get as much chalk out of my hair as I can. Then I put a hat on and come down and greet.

UNPLUG: There’s a car waiting for me, and they drive me home or we drive off to either upstate or to the Hamptons so I can have two days of quiet and unplug. I’ve learned that I need to take that day to myself to regroup.

RELAX: Then I’m home. I’ll light a fire and listen to some jazz, just hang out and have family dinner. Play a little Tetris or a little Solitaire. It helps me relax. It’s Sunday, so I can go to bed at 1 or 12:30. I try to do 20 minutes off technology, not on my phone, not reading Twitter. And I’m probably watching a movie as I fall asleep.

This article originally appeared in The New York Times.