Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be The Day when Routine, accompanied by its sidekick, Normalcy, returned. The day after Labour Day was the day I’d looked forward to with an enthusiasm that I don’t usually demonstrate for much else (except perhaps sleep).
Back to School Day was to lead seamlessly into Back to Work Day – no more procrastinating, time to write and seriously. So prepared was I for this day, I almost laid out a new outfit to wear. No alarm clock needed; I was up, ready to flip each reluctant child off their respective mattresses like Gordon Ramsay flipping delicious creations from frying pans to plates…rapid fire, efficient. C’mon let’s go! Have a good day, no worries, here’s your lunch, now get OUT.
As I strode purposefully into the kitchen it became apparent a major appliance had other ideas. Refrigerators are supposed to hum contentedly in the background while keeping food cold, crisp, and yummy. They are not supposed to groan, flash their interior lights or make ominous clicking sounds. They are certainly not supposed to do all these things on Back To School/Work Day.
Granted, my expectations of The Day might’ve been too high. Same as, in addition to being Back To School/Work Day, it was the day I vowed to avoid all fattening food even though it’s my husband’s birthday. A particularly luscious chocolate cake sits on the counter sagging from the weight of its thick layer of icing, mocking my pitiful efforts at good behaviour.
Waiting for the refrigerator repairman, I encountered a more nebulous roadblock – a friend’s blog. Laugh-out-loud funny, interesting, and quite well written, it is better than my blog on every level. So, in addition to major appliance breakdowns, surly children, and my own gluttony, I battle jealousy. I don’t begrudge my friend’s talent. Well, not totally. I’m thrilled he’s writing. In fact, he should retire permanently from his former profession and write…always.
It’s just that on this day, the day I was to return to the craft I love, to the thing I want more than anything to be my life’s work, I did not need to be faced with my own mediocrity. Oh well. Delusions of sparkling wit are fleeting…just like Canadian summers.
Over a slice of cake, I will re-read my friend’s blog. I’ll subscribe to it. I will be a vocal, enthusiastic fan because every good writer deserves fans. But I will also study him shamelessly, try to channel his effortless dry humour, absorb his storytelling skill, and strive to learn how to turn the mundane into the hilarious as he does. (Damn him) Forget being a fan; I’m a blogger stalker…a blogker? Blolker? Stalgger?
I will buckled down and get all serious about myself…tomorrow.