PLEASE NOTE: THIS IS ACTUALLY DAY 4. Not quite sure how to edit the title. Sorry for the confusion.
It occurred to me that you probably have no idea what a typical day would be like for me. I was struck by that bit of insight after realizing how little I knew of your day-to-day activities. We might grumble greetings at each other in the morning, or catch the latest episode of "Chainsaw Man" on HULU together, but aside from an occasional family movie or game night that we could successfully bribe both you and your sister with top shelf snacks to participate in, we were already leading very separate lives without me even noticing. Which is as it should be—it's how life works, after all—but it still snuck up on me all the same.
Therefore, I decided to give you a taste of an average day for me with a vaguely Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy text-based game* flavor. So here goes.
I am dreaming. It is a pleasant dream, nothing much memorable happening until I start hearing the cries of a baby in distress somewhere near my feet. As I try to bend to get a better view, I notice a weight on my chest which restricts my movement even as it licks my nose.
I open my eyes to find a cat on my chest. The cat on my chest is licking my nose and vibrating while another, entirely different cat is screaming at me from atop my shins. I glance at my wristwatch. It's 5:15 a.m.
I consider just shaking them off, as if I were setting my feline alarm clock to snooze, until my bladder exerts its emergency override authority and I get out of bed. My slippers are bedside waiting for me. There are no rugs in this house and the tile is too cold for me to deal with at the buttcrack of dawn, especially when the bladder emergency protocol has been implemented.
After disaster is averted, the cats swirl around my ankles chirping and mewling in their attempt to 'jedi mind trick' me into feeding them before I make my coffee. But it never works, as they underestimate coffee's hold on me even as they overestimate their own. Cats be catting, I guess.
Note: Here I want to interject a brief history of my evolution in coffee consumption, but realize that this topic warrants its own post and will therefore have to wait for another day.
I feed the cats, usually without tripping over the fat one, and settle in on the living room loveseat to sip coffee, check emails, and get my social media fix. On some days, you come out to have some breakfast and chat with me during this time. We talk about your favorite bands, the concert you last attended, current events, this week's dinner plans, or any number of other random, aimless topics for a few minutes and then I usually wouldn't see you again until dinnertime, unless I was still in the living room reading or watching movies when lunchtime rolled around.
Speaking of lunchtime, right on cue, I am hammered with the piercing, desperate meows of the small cat demanding immediate access to survey her territory in the backyard. Yes, I'm a cat door. Whatever. I'll just finish off that pumpkin pie while I'm up.
Once the house-panthers are satisfied that no incursions have taken place since their last inspection, they're always exhausted from protecting their domain and sleep for a good two hours or so. This is the perfect amount of time needed to get a chapter or two of audio recorded or a short post written and published. You and your father tease me that those cats have me trained, but the truth is, I figured out the easiest way to get them to both be quiet at the same time.
So I write. I record. I half-heartedly look for a job (views on Vocal Media of this series alone has already earned me $0.25 so there's a glimmer of hope I can figure out how to make money doing this). I work on typesetting my books to republish in paperback so I can keep an inventory for direct sales. I work on my website. And, I audition for voice acting roles.
When I'm not doing those things, I'm making sure your sister gets to and from school safely. I'm taking care of miscellaneous feline necessities like refilling their kibble dispensers, water fountains, or waste disposal. I do little chores around the house as I come across them: dishes, trash, that sort of thing. Your dad is too fixated on his Saturday cleaning routine to handle any deviations. Lately, your father has been stress-fixing things around the house, so I do my best to manage him by attempting to divert his energy toward things I want. That's why he's hanging the outside holiday lights right now.
Then, because the cats demanded to be fed at 5:15 a.m., I fall asleep watching movies or while hiding from being conscripted into helping your sister with her homework by pretending I fell asleep reading in bed.
My life is really not that interesting anymore. Not like in my freight dog days. You were the OG freightpup, my friend. Maybe I'll tell you more about that tomorrow. I'm sure there are stories you haven't heard, and why waste blog fodder?
All my love,
About the Creator
TAWN is a jet-rated Airline Transport Pilot, serial entrepreneur, fantasy author, audiobook narrator, and Dragon Empress of Tawnlandia, an empire forged of dreams, magic, and of course, dragons. Follow #EmpressTawn on Instagram or Facebook.