Yesterday was not a typical day for me.
I had a child home from school, I had some paid writing work to do.
I planned to go the gym, which is typical for a Monday. Hubster realised shortly before I was about to walk out the door, he had a 9AM meeting at the kids’ school. He would take them, I’d stay home with the sick one, and go to the gym later (that was never going to happen!) once he came back home. Child happily ensconced on the couch under his doona, and head resting on the pillow, watching TV, I thought I might as well plough straight into my freelance work. It’d take me about two, maybe three hours, I thought.
WRONG! I finally finished at 5PM. I seemed to have been temporarily bent into a sitting shape, with hands outstretched as if over a keyboard. I could hardly stand, let alone walk. Sore back, aching fingers, sore arse.
Not a typical day, by any means, but still one that I got through, albeit stiff and frustrated beyond measure. A day where my brain had been used effectively, a day where my skills were sought and valued by someone. And that’s a good day, wouldn’t you agree?
The thing is, really, there is no typical, is there? If there is too much typical in our lives, then we get bored, our senses dulled. If there is too much non-typical, too much jumping around and busyness, then we become over-stimulated and our brains become overloaded.
What sort of person are you, when the non-typical day comes knocking. Do you roll with it, or do you flail about? Do you whine or get busy? Honestly, I’m a person who likes routine, I like typical, I like order, neatness. And when the non-typical comes directly to me, I do fret somewhat. But I’m learning to embrace it all. Because life is not typical.