I just read this piece in nymag.com written in diary form--"the week in the life of..." I don't think I could write something like that. I've recently noticed that I am a creature of habit. I am happy doing the exact same thing, the exact same way, every day. And then I think of that quote " a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds." I even think of this quote on a regular basis, to remind myself how small-minded it is to be habitual.
Every single day of my diary would be this, at least during the week:
Press the snooze button exactly three times.
Get up. Make coffee. Feed cats. Listen to NPR on the radio and turn it off in disgust whenever they quote a tea-party person.
Walk to the Walnut stop, taking pictures of cats and judging people I pass by while at the same time hoping they're not judging me.
Buy coffee from Barnes & Noble coffee shop. Thank the girl profusely for giving me a $2.25 coffee for just $2, as she does every single day b/c I request extra room for milk.
9:10 AM-5 PM
Work in some form or another.
Trolley to gym (or not)
Around 7-9 PM
Arrive home, feed cats, immediately change into pajamas, play Spider Solitaire on the laptop and listen to NPR.
Go to bed and read for an hour or so, as cats fight for space on the bed and periodically hiss at each other.
Sleep. Dream about having to babysit cats, getting in trouble at work, or returning to high school having missed the first 3 weeks of class.
Really, that is what it's like.