An empty cous cous salad container
The evidence of a poor diet and a poorly organized day. No time for preparing even a simple meal, I grab a prepared side dish from the grocery store deli and call it lunch. Is this an artifact of a dedicated writer’s life, not taking precious creative time for something as mundane as a meal? That does sound better than what it is. Makes me a romantic outcast, dealing with only the most basic artifices of my suburban life and stealing time for rebellion. I like the picture. But the picture is crap.
Here’s my day. Woke up a few minutes after my 12 year old daughter and pulled some pants on. I checked in with her, let the dog out, made coffee and fed the dog. It took me a few minutes to calculate the time I had left and the tasks that had to be completed before I could write up a schedule in my head. Make the kids lunches, gather all my stuff for the day in my bag, get dressed, then go pick up my friend’s son and drive him and my own daughter to school for their early band practice. Calculations made clear that the shower would have to wait, but that I should have just enough time to wash my hair before I needed to get daughter number two to her chorus rehearsal. Having to drive a forgotten lunch box to the middle school threw a wrench into the works, but an unexpectedly available husband got the gears untangled again. I made it to the office 10 minutes before my first student was scheduled to arrive.
After a morning of giving writing advice to 18 year olds, I headed to the grocery store, eating into my planned writing day. Still, I went aisle by aisle and got the fixings for a healthy family and even remembered to stock up on the soft tissues since everyone has been sniffling for a week. I put the refrigerated items away, left the rest on the kitchen table and came out to the porch with my plastic tub of cous cous and started writing in response to prompts by John Dufresne. Now, near time for Thea to come off the bus and my mind is back on family track – have to walk the dog and get my exercise, do a few loads of laundry, put the rest of the groceries away, wash dishes, sweep the family room, send a card to the newlyweds, wrap a present for Greg’s co-worker’s new baby, make dinner for the family, and do some prep work for Friday’s class. But I have a few minutes before Thea arrives, so I’ll just write about it, instead.