Life can be so ironic sometimes. I had decided that the title of Chapter Nine would be Teaching.
Then between that decision and noon I was offered two teaching jobs - one starts this Wednesday until Sunday, and the other is in early December. Too weird. There is no such thing as coincidences.
The other weird thing is that yesterday I had talked myself into spending the money for a one day workshop - arguing with my frugal self that one day of teaching would pay for it. I will make enough money in the next week to pay for the course twice over.
I am realizing that much of this novel is autobiographical - not the main theme, but the day to day moments of the protagonist. I guess it is a historical fiction. Mine. Here is the start of Chapter Nine:
The cat was yelling – it can’t be that time yet, she thought, and sure enough when she looked at the bedside clock it was only 5:30 – so no, not time yet.
The house was cold. She reluctantly got up and peed, turned up the thermostat and headed back to bed.
It was almost nine when she awoke the second time, and there was a slight remnant of a headache. As she turned to stretch she noticed two things.
1) She was sore from yoga yesterday – core sore.
2) It was a beautiful sunny day.
She made coffee and sat in the living room. The apple tree was almost bare, and so was the chestnut tree across the street. But the sky was an azure blue and the sun was so bright it hurt her eyes.
She felt like a mole that had just emerged from its dark hole and squinted as she gazed at the bright world around her.
For the first time in a long while she read some of her favourite bloggers and even posted a few comments. She had not been active in the blogosphere for a few months, and she felt something returning to her. Interest. That’s what it was.
She made breakfast (well, technically she re-heated a blueberry muffin), and finished her coffee. She put away the dinner dishes, and then swept the floor. She headed towards the bathroom and grabbed the cleaner to make short work of the sink, toilet and bathtub. She finally removed the dark stain on the tile under the faucet that had been bugging her for weeks.
She did a laundry, cleaned out some buckets that had been lying on the back porch and raked the leaves on the driveway.
She was feeling productive.
Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.
Teaching does figure prominently in the rest of the chapter - this was how my morning started today (except I didn't rake the leaves) and I gifted it to the novel.