Dear Reader,
Today I tried something slightly rebellious: I did the day backwards.
Word Raccoon insisted.
We went to the gym before caffeine, before breakfast, before any of the usual negotiations. It felt almost suspiciously efficient, like I had skipped ahead in the book of the day.
I wasn’t mad about it.
Breakfast came after, a sausage avocado sandwich, grape tomatoes, and the quiet satisfaction of having already done something good for myself while using up produce. Maybe I need to write a cookbook called “Cook by Color.” I kinda do that anyway.
It is a ridiculously chilly day for April, the kind that makes you question every decision involving leaving the house. I went to the café anyway, though I did bring backup plans (and layers).
Wait, I see the sun. Sun!
And now it’s gone.
There was a pastry involved before writing. Don’t tell anyone at the café, but it turned out to be slightly underbaked, which feels like a metaphor I’m not going to chase today. It only got two bites to prove itself. It did not.
There was also Moon Cheese, which reminded me that I do not care for it. (WR brought it as a backup snack, apparently forgetting this. My apologies to those who like it, but it’s basically Cheez-Its with the joy removed.)
I am writing here while I wait for my lunch bunch to arrive, and the day feels oddly open now, as though doing the hard thing first cleared a path I didn’t know I needed.
I don’t know if I’ll adopt the backwards method permanently (I won’t), but for today, it worked.
Sometimes it’s enough to rearrange the order of things and see what changes.
Now, let’s knock on the novel and see if it opens. I’m ready to say hello.
WR says to tell you that yes, she wrote a poem this morning. It’s about “maybeness.” Probably a notebook poem.
Yours,
Drema
dremadrudge.com 