A day

Today is just a day. An ordinary day.

My life has a pattern to it at the moment. I get up early between 4-5 am and medicate the dogs. It takes me an hour to coax Chewie to eat his food and meds. Then I walk the dogs, sometimes twice. I drink espresso and pick up the downstairs and do laundry while watching my latest addiction Face Off (a character special effects/makeup competition) on Sci Fi Channel.

At 7 am, I make Adrian coffee and both of us something for breakfast and then go upstairs to quickly get dressed and leave for work by 7:30 am. I feel as if I live a lifetime every morning. On the days I carpool with Adrian, we will sometimes skip breakfast and get a smoothie.

Then work. That’s a whole story in itself. Best saved for another day. But I love my job and try to be efficient with my time.

When I come home (by 530 usually), we eat. If Adrian’s not home yet, his mom and I wait for him to eat. I give Chewie his night heart meds and then take the dogs out. By 8 pm, I’m beat. I go upstairs and take my medicine for my chronic issues which makes me drowsy and a bit dazed. I lay in bed and want to write. And at times, I do. Sometimes, I read instead of writing, with my lil furry Wookiee by my side. I listen to his breathing and it lulls me to sleep. My husband comes to bed about ten pm, sometimes inadvertently waking me up, and if I wake up, I will try to keep my eyes open to watch tv with him but they will eventually close.

My days are merging together, like a film on fast forward. Everything is blurry. Is this what middle age is supposed to be like? Or am I in crisis and just trying to get by, one day at a time?

Does it even matter? Should I care? When I was in Texas a couple of weeks or so ago (it already feels like months ago), I was on edge yearning to be home. And now I’m here and I’m sleepwalking through my days.

But maybe it’s just a day. An ordinary day. An ordinary life. There’s some beauty in that. I think.