A Writer’s Day

This is what my day was like yesterday.

The alarm rang at 7:00. I shut it off and grabbed five more minutes of sleep. It blared again and again I snapped it off and slept for what I thought was only five minutes but actually turned into thirty.  When I glanced at the alarm. I knew I had no more time left. I had to be at Seneca Hill P.S. for two presentations in an hour and half.

I popped out of bed, dressed, washed up, drank my fake latte (warmed milk, frothed up with some coffee) and six spoons of cheerios with milk (Give or take a spoon). Then I was out the door.

I checked my map to see where I was headed. Phew. This one wasn’t far but Toronto rush hour traffic is unpredictable. Luckily, I arrived with a little time to spare and met Donna Smith the lovely and elegantly dressed librarian.

“How,” I asked her, “do you wear heels all day?” (I’m in awe of people who can stand on their feet all day in heels. I live in black running shoes. Black is my attempt at elegance. That and funky earrings.)

The next few hours were spent with two groups of bright, eager, well-read students from SK to grade three. Donna confirmed what I observed in the presentations. These kids were voracious readers and their general knowledge was excellent. It’s not always that a bunch of kids in grade three know where chocolate comes from without any prompting.

After my sessions, it was off to have a quick chai latte and chat with a friend at my “office”–not really my office but the Starbucks in my local Chapters where I often work. When my friend left, I wrote for a few hours. Then I shopped, did errands and headed home for more writing, answering emails and preparing supper.

The day ended with chats with family members on the phone, (son and daughter-in-law in Ohio) a late talk with my husband after his long day and twenty minutes reading in bed before my eyes refused to stay open.

A writer’s day.