Just an Ordinary Day

It’s Wednesday and it’s raining. Yes, raining. The deep freeze of a couple of weeks ago has passed and we’re facing a string of rainy days. The good news is that it’s mild outside. The not-so-good news is that it’s also a slushy mess. Nonetheless, it’s a relief after the cold.

One of our eaves troughs developed an issue as a result of the snow and ice and we’re waiting for someone to come and repair it. Meanwhile melting snow is pouring off our roof onto the sidewalk outside our front door. It’ll be a problem when it freezes so we hope they come soon.

This afternoon it is quiet. I’m home alone with the dogs and cat and, at the moment, they’re all asleep. Murphy’s lounging in front of the fireplace, Maya is curled up in her bed in the den, and the cat is downstairs, likely on Laurinda’s bed. I’m feeling a bit over-extended and overwhelmed these days. On the outside, you wouldn’t know it; if you looked at my calendar it wouldn’t be apparent. For me, overwhelm sneaks in, often when I am balancing numerous plates and carrying multiple concerns. I’m taking the day to do not much of anything but be, hoping and expecting that will help.

I’ve been writing a lot these first days of January. Not only here, but also for Story Circle Network’s 20-Minute a Day Challenge and for a long-form project I’m working on. I decided to set it all aside today and get lost in a book. So, why am I here, you ask? I’m killing two birds with one stone by writing this post in 20 minutes so it qualifies for the challenge. I’ll send it off to my accountability group after I hit publish, and that’s it for email today too. I need to lean into solitude and silence for a time to regain my bearings. That, and stop reading the news that gets crazier every day.

For now, I’m just looking out the window at a gray foggy day watching the snow melt. It’s happening fast. The worst of winter is likely behind us and we’re on the downhill slope toward spring. I’m choosing to believe we’re also on the downhill slope toward a more rational way of living but I won’t stake too much on that just yet. I’m listening to something—but I can’t make out what it is. It sounds like the printer but that can’t be, because no one is home except me. It’s one of those unidentifiable sounds a house makes. I’ll investigate when I’m finished with this post. My Instant Pot just beeped indicating it’s up to pressure. I’m cooking kidney beans in preparation to make a pot of chili for supper.

It’s just an ordinary day. One in which I haven’t caught a glimpse of the extraordinary just yet, but I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.


I’m a writer, reader, and creative. I thought by now I’d have things figured out, but I keep coming up with more questions. I think that’s okay. I’m here most mornings pondering ordinary things and the thin places where faith intersects.
  1. After Feb we see glimpses of Spring. Feb is our “worst” month re temps and snow. January here is just ugly.

  2. Beautiful writing. You so perfectly put words to the state of perpetual unease I feel since our poor world was turned on its head. There is a bit of peace in the sleep of animals; the cat at my end sleeps as well.

    1. Thank you for stopping by, Loring, and for your kind words. Cats and dogs snoozing nearby does bring a unique peace to our space, doesn’t it?

  3. It’s an extraordinary day because it prompted people like me to read this. Beautifully said, all of it.

    1. What a kind and encouraging thing to say, Susan. Thank you.

  4. And in just twenty minutes of your ‘ordinary day’, you have brought us sounds, smells, tastes, colours, thoughts and wonderings, all richly layered and woven together from your exterior and interior worlds. I might call that pretty extraordinary …

    1. Thank you, Alexa. That’s a wonderful way to look at it and a great reminder that we all have something to bring to the collective table.

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