|This really is me sleeping. No, really... All right, all right. Not really.|
From a dreamless sleep, I awake to the sound of a 5 o'clock alarm, beeping like the metronome our high school band director used to make us march in time & in step with whatever music we happened to be playing that year. Left, right, left. Roll. Your. Feet. Funny how that memory arises at the strangest moments.
I stretch. Wonder fleetingly what day it is, decide it’s Thursday—casual day at the office—so I can wear a comfy pair of slacks, shirt and, most importantly, flat shoes. Heels are a staple with our Mon-Wed & Fri business-wear, expected of every employee who deigns to look her best and/or keep her job on the right track. I clerk for a judge, you see, and he likes all of us to look classy and uniform. Crisp and exceptionally presentable. Thursday is no exception, so I decide on a pair of khakis, a modest shirt, and my brown dress flats with bows on the toes.
Hey, that rhymed.
I'm one of those disgusting morning people, so it's no big deal for me to scramble on out of bed, let the dogs out, lock the door, and head for the shower within, oh, 60 seconds. The water feels great, hot and gently massaging. Loads of my favorite scents fill my nostrils: Ivory body wash, kiwi cucumber shampoo & conditioner, and raspberry shaving cream. While I lather my hair, I contemplate what I shall write today. How will I move the scene forward? I’m nearing the end of the chapter—can I get there within 2-3 pages and still have the anticipated impact? I certainly hope so. Lather, lather, lather. Rinse. Towel off. Slip on a pair of worn sweatpants, a soft tee, and socks. Head for the kitchen.
|Victoria's Secret Pink Sleep Pants|
After feeding the dogs and the cat, adding a bit of new Hazelnut Crème creamer to a cup of freshly-brewed Starbucks, I sit down to write. The scene moves well, decent words come to me. I finish the chapter with, “That’s when I see the fire,” and am pleasantly satisfied that I’ve managed to end on a cliffhanger. What will the reader think of this? Will they imagine a fire somehow started behind the packs upon packs of werewolves (who, by the way, are chasing the hero, heroine & their friends)? Will they gasp as I’ve done so many times in my own reading?
Gosh, I hope so. But I can’t dwell on it now, because I’ve got to get up, start getting ready for the day job.
The next half hour flies by in a blur: makeup, hair, iron clothes, get dressed, grab a water & my keys, and head out the door. Listen to Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins on the way to work. Get stuck behind a truck and trailer driving in the left lane @ 20 mph. Curse. Feel bad for cursing. Make it to work well-on time, despite the snail-pace of morning traffic.
|I had very little this morning; that's for certain.|
One of my coworkers leaves early with a migraine, and so we’re left with only three, which is fine, as it’s Thursday and no court. Go through a handful of mail, greet one or two customers with either an eviction or a small claim. We do a lot of those these days. People are either not paying rent, finagling someone out of a wad of cash, or both. Crooks come in all shapes and sizes, trust me. The Hubby calls around ten-ish, says he took a curb too sharply and scraped the side of his tire, like, bad. Which means he’ll need a new tire. Which means he’ll want at least two new tires, because he’s obsessive-compulsive about his truck.
And so I meet him at the tire repair shop, where we pay for not one, not two, but four new tires.
Sayonara to a huge chunk of our savings.
The upside is we have lunch at Shane’s, a locally owned restaurant famous for their to-die-for po-boy’s. I order the barbeque rib special; The Hubby orders the catfish. We share off each other’s plates ‘til we’re fuller than a pair of ticks. Head for the mall, where I find a righteous pair of patent four-inch heels in nude for $39.99, knocked down from $70. I allow the girl in the shoe department to put them on hold, as I’m not in possession of a 15% off coupon, and we do not—absolutely do not—shop at Penney’s without a coupon. And when I say “we,” I mean every girl in the office, who always has a coupon stashed either in her drawer or under her desk calendar. We print and copy ‘em as if they were counterfeit bills. At any rate, because my hubby’s of the exceptionally sweet variety, and he just bought four tires (when he only needed one… I repeat: ONE), he takes me to Starbucks and forks over $5.30 for the new Mocha Coconut Frappuccino in tall.
|Mocha Coconut Frapuccino a la Starbucks|
It tastes like Almond Joy Heaven.
The afternoon speeds by. No customers, no new filings. I process a few judgments, listen to an irate paralegal babble on and on about how we didn’t consult her attorney or opposing counsel’s attorney when we set a certain case for trial. I explain we had to set it on a special date, because neither our regular judge nor our pro-tem judge can hear the case, and so we had to obtain a judge from three, four cities away just to come and preside over this particular trial. But of course that’s not good enough, because she’s a paralegal who thinks she’s an attorney and, therefore, can speak to anyone and everyone any darn way she pleases. Which is rather amusing, actually, as we’re the court, and we’ll just stick your file at the bottom of the pile.
So, there. Who’s sassy now, Miss Thang?
Ah, but I digress.
Judge stops in, signs a few orders. Looks over his petition for Red Mass (the one day a year in which the clergy blesses our local judges and attorneys; it’s GORGEOUS!), which is tomorrow at the Holy Trinity Church in downtown Shreveport.
|Holy Trinity Catholic Church in Shreveport, LA|
Before I know it, the day's over, and I go with The Hubby to pick up his truck--complete with spankin' new tires--then head home, let the dogs out, take another shower, let the dogs in, feed all household pets, and finally--finally--settle down with a glass of wine at the computer.
While my email's loading, I check out the regular snail-mail and am happy to see two cards, one from The BFF and one from my momma. The BFF's is a Thank You, which is totally cute, as it features her and her new hubby on the front holding up a "Thank" and a "You" on black and white cards. TOO clever. Really, their whole wedding experience was a freaking blast. The one from Momma is pleasant and sweet. A Thinking of You, something she does every now and again just to let me know she's... well, thinking of me. I love it when she sends cards and letters, because it reminds me of what a great writer she is, too. Not that I'm saying I'm a great writer, mind, but I do think I inherited the love of the written word from her.
I load up a washer-full of laundry, sit down. Scan YouTube, convert a video to mp3 for The BFF (Be My Light from Camelot). Add in my critique partner's suggestions to what I wrote this morning (yay for the finished chapter!). Scan YouTube again. Find a video of Jimmy Kimmel interviewing Josh Hutcherson, who will play my favorite tribute from District 12, Peeta Mellark, in next year's movie release The Hunger Games.
He's gonna be great.
Talk to the critique partner for a spell. Decide together that my heroine, Samantha Chase, will sort of be like Charlie in Stephen King's Firestarter: Possess the ability to control and start fire using only her mind. Super excited about that. Should be great fun to write, too. Especially since the hero, Jack Dixon, can control and manipulate water.
Finally I do what I've waited to do all day long: READ! Current book on the Kindle? Delirium by Lauren Oliver, and I'm loving it, loving it, loving it. Soon the hubby comes home, we let the dogs out one more time, brush our teeth, crawl into bed, and watch an episode of Friends (Season 6, Episode 143, The One Where Paul's the Man). And then...
Well. I have to leave you at the bedroom door now, dear reader. But this is my day in detail. A snore-fest at times, yes, but I love my life. And I love you for reading.
Peace, Love, and Junior Mints,
P.S. Why Blogspot decided to be weird and go back and forth between gray & black text, I haven't a clue. Should've really made your eyes water with, like, pink & yellow or something. :)