A commenter wrote that you tend to get more work done when there is more work to do.
Yes, you're right about that.
Saturday: up at 6 for an hour of reading (news, blogs, the usual morning fare). Down to the gym for the next hour. I try to read a book while on the machines, but I’m distracted by the Today show on TV – the story is about moonlighting. Not surprisingly, a growing number of workers are looking for that second job. Suddenly I am immensely grateful that I found one in a place that is so incredibly unobjectionable.
By 8, I shake a groggy Ed and we go to the Westside Community Farmers Market. Quickly. Efficiently.
Grilled foods tonight. Good. Got them now. And fruits for breakfast. Shopping done.
A shower, with time for the hair to dry. And time for the most important morning ritual – breakfast on my small condo terrace. This part calls for a leisurely mindset. It’s no good otherwise. An espresso on the run just hasn’t the power to coax me into a proper mood.
By 9:30, I’m dressed and ready to head out for work.
We open the place up, the manager and I. And we talk. About her move here when the store opened, about life, families, the sales approach, the product.
Strands of conversation, cut short when the door opens and a customer comes in. It’s a beautiful day outside and so there aren’t many here, shopping, but there are some. The undecided ones. The young girls who have absolutely no intention of buying anything. The ones who know what they want because they once had it and they sure would love to have it again (even if the memory is a little fuzzy about the what and when of the purchase).
The sun moves across the floor and I am so glad that the place has windows where you can see that. None of this sequestered mall stuff so that when you go out you notice with shock that the day has changed and you have not witnessed the moment of transformation.
And then I am done. For now. And I think how mellow this is – this morning at…. my place of additional work. How lucky that it should be this way.
I walk back slowly. On another day I would rush. Maybe. I would still have energy to write. Maybe. There it is – cautious optimism!
I call Ed. I’m done! We walk over to Border’s where I sip a coffee and look at Maile Meloy’s wonderful new book of short stories. Ed buys it for me. As a present.
Back home, I heat up the grill and get the market veggies out. The Tour de France is on. I think about someday hiking the Pyrenees. Maybe. Someday.