All times are approximate. I'm calling this entry an exercise in recall and writing. It isn't a pathetic attempt to ease the withdrawl symptoms of not being able to post statuses on Facebook. It's NOT.
7 am: Start looking for TheMan's paper shredder. It's larger than mine, plus I know it's in the office somewhere. I don't know where mine is off hand. I want to make a start at getting rid of old paperwork, old bills and such that have my name on them. Like five year old credit card statements and such.
When I got married in June and moved into my husband's house my office stuff was crammed into his office with his office stuff and neither of us is terribly organized. We're both pile-makers. I want to get rid of old energy and clean some of this stuff up.
7:15 am: Found the paper shredder. It was sitting right beside my desk underneath a couple of books. TheMan and I are also both bibliophiles. (That sounds better than book hoarders.) Start shredding.
7:20 am: Paper shredder jams. Printed on the top of the shredder, "MAXIMUM 6 SHEETS." I only put in four. Turn off, unplug, start pulling out shredded bits. Oh, good. It's a crosscut shredder. I'd forgotten that. Get pliers to pull out the stubborn bits. Reassemble and it works again. Shred the last few things in that pile. Look for more. Sort through piled file folders. Immediately start to confuse my piles of shred, keep, refile, reuse.
7:40 am: Realize I need to go to the bathroom. Realize my four days of spotting is not going away and yes, I actually did start my period on Saturday, eight days early. Feel annoyed, even though my flow is very light and that's unusual and I don't have cramps and I'm hardly cranky at all. WTF? I've been early before, but I don't remember ever being this early. Is my real age finally catching up with me? I'm 42 but I don't look it. Lot's of people have told me so, it's not just vanity, thank you. Many people can't believe I have two sons aged twenty-one and nineteen. So I like to ignore the fact that my body is definitely not 32 years old. But it's always there at the back of my mind, "You're not getting any younger." Menopause maybe? Shudder. Find phone and make a note in my period tracker app.
7:45 am: Realize I haven't eaten breakfast. Get the banana nut muffin out of the microwave that I had warmed up at 6:45 and forgotten about. More coffee. Remind TheDaughter that it's 7:47 am. She slept through her alarm this morning and was playing on her iPad at that moment. I didn't want to have to drive her to school when she usually rides her bike. Sit down at the dining room table to eat my muffin and drink my coffee and read my current book. Every Which Way But Dead by Kim Harrison. Rachel Mariana Morgan, witch bounty hunter.Witches, vampires, pixies, werewolves and such in a modern mystery novel setting could easily be trite and ridiculous but Harrison's excellent realistic writing style makes it damn entertaining and fresh. TheDaughter leaves for school.
7:55 am: Sit on the back porch and smoke a cigarette and read some more.
8 am: Back into the office and make this blog entry because damnit I need to write something.
8:30 am: Waste half an hour playing nonograms online. I play Brainbashers Nonogrids and GoobixGoobix Nonograms. These time wasters are self limiting because if I make a hopeless mistake on a grid and I've already spent over five minutes on the puzzle I stop for at least a while to reset my brain. I have no idea what I mean by that, it just came out of my fingers into the keyboard.