Ordinary Day
I feel like that digression in the book The Princess Bride which explains why three years of events are summed up with the words “what with one thing and another, three years passed.” It has been a one-thing-after-another kind of day. None of the things were urgent or stressful. Nothing made me sad or upset. Several things made me happy. But I don’t have the energy or clarity of thought to pull the day together around any kind of a focus. My mailbox is emptier. My house is cleaner. The last of the make up homework is done. The packages are shipped. Meals were cooked then eaten. And if the kids were a bit wild and inclined to squabble, I choose to blame it on the dropping barometric pressure which preceded the rain. On the other hand, two of those same kids spent time today writing fiction stories and the results were good. The mailman brought me the last disc of Bones so Howard and I can watch it tonight. And I even sneaked a little bit of writing time.
It was an ordinary, mostly good, occasionally frustrating, day. The kind of day that passes and is forgotten because it contained nothing momentous. It is the kind of day about which I can say “what with one thing and another, the day passed.”