My poor blog has sat empty since August, one lone picture of a blue man gracing the front page. As I wrote here, I was hired for a new job over the summer.
Since I signed eleventy billion confidentiality clauses and contracts, I'm going to call my current company Credit Dauphine. I am employed there as an editor, and it is a surprisingly intense amount of work. It has been an adjustment from my stay-at-home days. In addition to a new schedule and job, I continued freelance writing on the side, and kept up the usual balance of friends, family, a marriage, and time for myself. FitC sat quietly in the backseat. This month, I added NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) to the To-Do List, and it's been a joy. I'm still working on finishing, but even if I don't make the goal, it's been fun to work on a novel again.
A recent trend in the blogosphere is to do a photo essay of an average day; taking a photo every hour and chronicling what the blogger does during a random day. It's been a long time since I've shared anything, and I thought that an average day in my life would be a good way to go. I can't promise this will happen again, or if I will even have another moment to blog this month. But it's a hello, a how-are-you-I'm-fine-see?, a day to let you know that I'm thinking of FitC, even if I can't really do much about it.
And it was a very typical day; nothing really grand or unusual happened. One day last week, Jamie brought me cronuts. That was a good day. And earlier this month, I managed to write a huge chunk of my NaNoWriMo story in one go. That was pretty exciting. Oh, and last week I saw Cyndi Lauper and took a trip to Wilmington, N.C. But Tuesday, November 19th, was just a normal day. Come join me.
7:20 a.m.: My alarm goes off. I ignore it, like a true American.
7:50 a.m.: Whoops. I'm running late. Time to get dressed, make coffee, ponder the universe. I get dressed in a super hurry and discover later I'm not quite that put-together since the tank-top I am wearing as a camisole under my sweater is way too long. (British English translation: My vest under my jumper was in a bunch.)
