my green vermont

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One Writer’s Morning

Welcome to My Green Vermont - A Blog by Eulalia Benejam Cobb.
By Eulalia Benejam Cobb

7:30 a.m. Emerge from bedroom. Avoid tripping over sashaying cat.

Pulling parka hood down over face so passersby won’t recognize self in pajamas, accompany dog outside. Wait patiently in snow until ritual accomplished. Deliver heartfelt praise.

Brush snow off dog and self. Feed and water dog and cat, briefly zapping raw food in microwave as act of loving care.

8:00 a.m. Fix desultory breakfast for spouse and self, doing best to ignore depressing news on radio. Drink coffee. Swallow nutritional supplements to ensure health and longevity. Drink 16 oz H2O to prevent general shrinkage. Count blessings.

Clean cat litter box; brush dog’s teeth.

Brush own teeth. Vigorously swish mouthwash for one minute, as recommended by dentist.

Resolve to write while rested and fresh. Best writers all wrote in a.m.–Hemingway, Vonnegut, Woolf, Angelou. Reflect some dead by suicide.

Meditation will help clear mind, but decide to check email first, also spam folder. Unsubscribe from six lists. Put off answering messages until later. Brief detour through FB, repressing annoyance at friends’ rich, meaningful lives.

10:00 a.m. Water drooping Swedish ivy. Pull off brown geranium leaves and throw outside.  Mist houseplants. Refill birdbath. Observe obese squirrel on suet feeder. Suppress desire to purchase firearm.

Check yesterday’s to-do list. Find no items to cross out. Add new items.

Do eight sets of Dr. Weil’s 4-7-8 breaths to calm self.

Sit on meditation cushion, drafting imaginary letters to Congress and rehearsing minor revenge fantasies until 20-minute bell rings.

Get up stiffly off floor. Decide yoga session essential for survival. Will start writing immediately after.

11:00 a.m. Priority: PT exercises to alleviate hand pain, possibly similar to pain suffered by Henry James.

Unroll yoga mat, get down on floor, do cat/cows, down-face dogs, planks, forward bends, bridges, and pigeons, shooing real cat off mat. Tree pose still wobbly.

Worry that it’s middle of morning, and self still in pajamas.

Get up stiffly off floor, recall centenarian grannies in Okinawa remain nimble thanks to lifetime of squatting. Remind self to squat frequently throughout the day.

Change towels, sort laundry, start first load. (Will write while clothes wash!) Add detergent to shopping list.

Take shower. Ponder washing hair, decide no time to dry. Moisturize, deodorize, get dressed. Find hole in sock. Remember mother mending socks, briefly consider doing same. Throw sock in trash.

12:30 p.m. Notice dog looking wistfully at self, provoking familiar guilt reflex. Take dog for long walk.

Promise self serious writing session upon return.




8 Responses

  1. Different set – same result: lots of potential writing time consumed by the necessary minutiae of daily life. I even try to get through the many repeat steps as efficiently as possible.

    The problem is that the body doesn’t focus for writing until…? And I don’t know what that is. Every night when I go to bed, I tell myself tomorrow will be the day I get up and just get going with the current scene in the WIP.

    Rarely, I do. Mostly, I sort of wait until I’m awake – and then there is fooding and napping and starting all over again after each nap. It’s a wonder I get anything done! And that’s because once I focus, I get a lot done quickly, and I want the world to go that way every day, and it doesn’t.

    So I plod, and wish for those lightning sprints, and have no idea how to have more of them.

  2. I absolutely love how you write! You made me laugh out loud several times. I recognized myself when you said you took care of so many chores this morning, yet, you had not removed even one from your to do list, and instead added more. I didn’t see myself when you started your exercising by getting on the floor. If I got on the floor, I’d have to stay there…bad knees. I don’t even dare squat! My knees would probably lock up and then I’d really be in trouble. Can’t see myself going out to the mailbox in the squat position!…..You take us all along in your writings and, Eulalia and I look forward to every word! I hope you never stop sharing your life with us!!!

    1. Thank you for reading, Donna. As the happy recipient of two hip replacements, I can testify to the wonders of skeletal carpentry. Not to minimize the discomforts of knee surgery, but life’s too short never to squat again. Be well, and happy Christmas.

  3. Loved this. Perfect “first thing” to read this morning. A few inside chuckles make for a great start of the day.

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