In a perfect world, my day would look something like this:
- 6am – Wake up and go running (5 miles, because it’s a perfect world and that’s the kind of distance one jogs daily in such a world)
- 7:30am – Come home & do 90 minutes of yoga and/or strength training.
- 9am – Breakfast. Something disgustingly healthy like yogurt or oatmeal.
- 9:30am – Shower, get dressed (everything in my closet would fit perfectly, because, you know, 5 miles and 90 minutes of yoga), put on makeup, feel excited to leave my house because I’m fucking gorgeous.
- 10:30am – Catch the bus to work.
- 11am – Snack. Something disgustingly healthy like hummus and carrots, or an apple, or some shit like that.
- 2pm – Lunch. Something disgustingly healthy like a salad full of fresh green veggies, or steamed fish, or whatever it is that skinny people love to eat.
- 6pm – Walk home.
- 6:50pm – Ingest some other kind of food. By this point I’ll be so tired of eating healthy things that I’ll just eat a nice, savory piece of cardboard for a little bit of variation in my diet.
- 7pm to 12am – Write next great American novel. OK, that’s a lie. Write shitty Harlequin romance novels and/or horror/murder mysteries that will translate into vacation money. At some point, sexy awesome boyfriend shows up and we write and/or read together for awhile before, well, you can guess…
- 12am – Go to sleep and dream of how amazing it’s going to be to drink all of the wine and eat all of the cheese on my next vacation, all the while looking amazing in the bikini it took me all year to eat my way into.
What my typical day REALLY looks like…
- 10:17am – Wake up and freak out that I’ve been apparently hitting my snooze button since 6am this morning. Realize that I haven’t washed my hair in days because I keep planning to do it “tomorrow, after I run 5 miles”. Laugh at myself hysterically, since the last time I ran 5 miles was sometime in 2010. Check the bus tracker and realize that the bus is about 20 minutes away from my stop.
- 10:17 to 10:25am – Stumble around in my underwear, thinking that I should probably either a) feed the cats, b) put on some pants, or c) brush my teeth, but knowing full well that only two of those options are happening before I have to sprint to the bus stop.
- 10:30am – Pants on, cats fed (Did I feed the cats this morning? I think I fed the cats. OhgodIhopeIfedthecats…), bag packed with all sorts of things I may or may not need for a day at work, I run out of the house. But really, am I wearing pants? Or did I brush my teeth, instead? Meh. No one cares about either thing.
- 10:35am – Arrive at bus stop. Bus is a block away. Realize that I’m short a nickel. Prepare my speech for begging the bus driver for forgiveness.
- 10:37am – Board bus, promptly stumble and drop change everywhere. Bus driver tells me to “sit the hell down before I hurt someone” and not to worry about paying. Guess that solved that problem, though is a busted toe only worth five cents? Wonder on this for the rest of the bus ride.
- 10:50am – Arrive at work. The walk from the bus stop takes about ten minutes. My greasy, who-knows-when-I-washed-it-last hair is sticking up at all angles. I smell sweaty, but it doesn’t matter. No one will see or talk to me all day, anyway.
- 11am – Settle down in my windowless warehouse office to check emails and peruse FB for the next six hours.
- 12pm – Think about having a healthy lunch. Tick off options in my mind: salad from grocery store, salad from restaurant next door, salad from store down the street, super huge coffee and pastry from store around the corner. Ding ding, we have a winner. On the way, I stop to pick up a sandwich and a Diet Coke at another store, so I’ll be stocked up for the rest of the day.
- 1pm – Finish last bite of sandwich. Start on pastry.
- 1:02pm – Hate myself.
- 1:02pm to 6pm – Hate everything about everyone.
- 6pm – Walk home while listening to Welcome to Night Vale. Laugh, smile, forget the fact that the rest of the day has been the worst day ever. Plan to put on running clothes as soon as I get home. Tonight’s the night I start building up my mileage again!
- 6:50pm – Home. God, it’s hot. My jeans are chafing my thighs. My feet hurt. I could really use a glass of wine. And a hug. I really, really want a hug. A hug would be the best. And maybe to bitch in my blog, and to watch an episode of House. Seven at night is too late to go running, anyway. It’s going to be dark out soon. I could be mugged, or raped, or killed…or a mixture of any of these. Yep, running is best done in the morning, when imaginary attackers are still abed.
- 6:55pm – Text sexy awesome boyfriend, take shower, wash hair, check wine supply.
- 7:30pm – Sexy awesome boyfriend arrives. Cuddles, wine, and conversation commence.
- 3am – Where did the night go? I need to run at 6am! I must go to sleep immediately! Tomorrow’s the day I start getting in shape. I just know it’s going to work this time.
And before you know it, I’m 65. My knees are blown out, I’m pushing 230 lbs, and I’ve never published. This is where my mind is today.