A Wasted Day Redeemed

I almost wasted yesterday. Yes, one of the precious days of this glorious summer that stretches ahead of me. I almost wasted it completely.

I was tired from working so hard on my Secret Garden paper on Tuesday, and then working so hard reading the proofs for the Philosophy and Public Policy Quarterly (which I'm guest-editing) on Wednesday. And I was hanging around waiting for a shuttle ride back to the Subaru dealer to pick up on car from its major overhaul the day before. And just, well, just spinning my wheels. Checking email every few minutes for some sign from the universe that my life is about to change in a dramatic and wonderful way for the better. Idly flipping through my notes for the paper I'm supposed to be writing on the twins series of Rosamund DuJardin: Double Date, Double Feature, and Double Wedding - oh, I do love 1950s teen romance! But instead of writing the paper, I was just thinking about writing it. And instead of eating all the lovely fresh greens I bought last Saturday at the farmers' market, I was eating an entire pound-page of Hershey's cherry cordial kisses.

I was actually starting to feel depressed.

But then, I salvaged the day! I didn't salvage it in terms of work, but I did salvage it in terms of fun. All by myself, I watched the movie Once, which we had from Netflix: maybe I could be a street performer in Dublin! Then, carless even with my repaired car (one of the boys was using it), I walked down to the George Reynolds branch of the Boulder Public Library and did some pleasurable browsing. Then I continued walking to Vic's SoBo coffee shop for a literary reading by a novelist and poet affiliated with the Lighthouse Writing Workshop. Then I came back home and started reading Middlemarch, which I bought three years ago and never opened.

Now, today, I've already put in a GOOD hour of work on my Twins paper. Later this morning I'm meeting my writer friend Kate Simpson at a bookstore in Golden and then having lunch. I'm going to check email no more than once an hour. The Hershey cherry cordial kisses are almost gone. And if I'm casting around for a project, many hundred pages of Middlemarch remain.