Yesterday, when I came home from work, I walked the little dog, moved some pine chips to the front walkway, pulled some weeds and removed dead stalks from the central flower bed. I took a few photographs.
Inside, I folded the towels that were waiting in the dryer, moved a small load of dark clothes from the washer to the dryer, and started a load of colors. I wiped down the kitchen counter.
I paid one bill, due on the 1st, by telephone, and stacked the other ones that need attention on the side of my desk. I took one phone call and sorted some notes.
I warmed four cups of chicken broth, added the juice of one very ripe lemon, one egg and two cups of cooked long-grain rice. I made a pot of coffee. I fed the dog.
Then I sat down at the computer and started typing. Other than the occasional trip to the stove to refresh my coffee or get a bowl of soup, I kept that seat until 2AM. I’m back at it today. I’m working on my news-magazine.
It’s amazing to me how much of journalism is not creative. I don’t know what in the world made me think it should be! Mostly, as I see it, it’s secretarial work. I type using two or three fingers of each hand, with my eyes on the keys. I’m pretty fast, considering, but certainly not secretarial fast! Whenever I’m handed a piece for publication that needs to be typed in to the computer, my heart sinks. That’s what I did last night: one obituary, one public service message and two up-coming events. Then I edited two stories, and downloaded some photos to go with them. Today, I’m on to converting my own notes into reports and articles.
The sun is shining. It is streaming through the window, and warms me here at the desk. The good news is that when I finish this, I’ll have my own life back, for maybe a week, before I have to start thinking of the next issue!