Every weekday, I wake up at 4:15 to take my temperature and pop a thyroid pill. Generally, I'll snooze a few minutes and push myself out of bed and lumber toward the bathroom. Flicking on the light, I reach for my toothbrush and nine times out of ten, will lament the frizziness of my hair.
I boil the water for my coffee in the red tea kettle we received as a wedding gift (which, sadly, doesn't whistle), pour it over the grainy, brown, and aromatic grounds of the Pike Place Blend coffee I had especially ground for my French press. After four minutes, I pour the brew into a favorite mug, add a packet of stevia, stir in some vanilla soy creamer and enjoy. My fingers cling to the ceramic curves, soaking in its heat, and I enjoy every life-giving sip.
I go to work, wrap myself in a black fleece blanket that has "Happy Holidays 2002" embroidered on a corner, and sit the cubicle and type words into the computer. To my left are sixteen pictures from my wedding and honeymoon that I had printed with thin black borders, and they make me happy.
After I work, I might grocery shop, picking up several bags of frozen green beans and some fish for dinner. I might select a bottle of wine that generally costs about $6-10 and then head to the gym. I like the cardio theatre for its darkness and how cool it feels. I'll go out and work the weights: squats, lunges, presses, curls. I feel good and accomplished when I'm done.
I drive home in about five minutes, drop off my grocery and gym bags, and my husband greets me: "Hello, sweet one." I kiss him, hug him, hang up my black wool coat, and sit down on the couch. He asks me if I want anything to drink.
After dinner, we sit on the couch together. We might watch a video on YouTube or from our Netflix queue. I'm probably processing pictures I took five days ago. I like to drape my legs and feet across his lap and relax, resting my head on the arm of the couch. We do this until I can't stand to stay awake anymore (generally, about 9:30 pm) and get ready for bed. I savor the moment just after I pull back the sheets and the comforter and I can crawl into bed with my too-cool body, sharing in his warmth.
He kisses me, wraps his arms around me, and then we sleep.
This is our beautiful-ordinary life. There is no glamour, no glitz, no flash. We are far too boring to have our own reality TV show, and that's just the way we like it (no matter, we don't have cable anyway). From the outside, our lives look like a lot of others right now. But this life is ours, and I love it.
Please tell me about your beautiful-ordinary life. What "ordinary" moments of your day are extraordinary and beautiful to you?
photo by kirsten.michelle