Day One of A Look into the Average Every Day Life of Keturah

Well.

Melissa has begged me for months to do a detailed account of what my day looks like.

Ehh... my days, every one, is so different. 

And I'm always so tired by the end of the day. Well. Well. I've promised. So here goes. 

Today was unplanned. I was going to Idaho, but late last night my father said I shouldn't because of icy road conditions.

I woke up sometime between 3-5am as I always do. I don't use alarms. They are toxic. They disallow for the curious vibrant cycle of polyphasic sleeping, or intermittent sleeping. I awake when I must. It always works. I'm never late. In fact I'm known to be early for nearly everything. 

Today it was closer to 5am. I beta read the beginning of Adeel's Pakistan mythological novel. Been promising to do that for months. Feeling happy. Sure he is, too. 

Then I wandered out of my room and said hello to the woman who slept on my couch. Angela. I smiled at her. Partly because I was glad she wasn't the schizophrenic woman who'd slept on the adjacent couch only a few days before. (We always have strange and nice people over. Guess we don't discriminate... but this last woman was possibly demon possessed and I've said from hereon out I will not welcome demons or witches into my home.)

Angela is neither demon nor witch, and so I am polite and warm. We chat for a bit, and I scroll my favorite social media and think of how to respond to my first bad cleaning review. I ask her opinion, my parents' opinion, and my best friends' opinions. 

As I'm considering I try on a ball gown im altering for myself to ask Angela's opinion. I point to all the places that might not be flattering or perfect and she helps me feel fitted into the dress I'm wearing. 

Finally I share the response, then decide I must make breakfast. "You like eggs and sourdough?" 

She says she's not hungry having just ate tons roadtripping. I say that eggs are just what she needs then. I run over to my mom's house (only a few hundred feet away) in the wind and snow, wearing only houseslippers and a nightgown and grab a dozen dirty eggs.

I dress... put on a beautiful, blue flowered dress, leave my hair wild, and wear baggy orange leggings. My mom raised an eyebrow at the marriage of tasteful and trashy 

Hey. It's Sabbath.

I make a glorious breakfast of much more than eggs and sourdough toast. I eat with chopsticks because it's fun and makes me laugh. 

After our late brunch, which my sister Jerushah joined me for, we move back to my living room. She takes up work on her laptop, Jerushah goes outside to check on a fire for the chicken house, and I pick up my embroidery. 

Angela and I chat about trauma and psychology and philosophy. Good things were said. Also good stitches were made. 

The day goes on.

Various siblings come in and out. I text some brothers to come over. "Want to go with me to the new Spider-man?" 

They all did. But then I checked the weather report. Roads were bad, traffic clogged. "Why don't you try to find a pirated version?"

Off they went. They found it, much later, I find out, but forgot to let me know and watched it without us. Alright. It was blurry anyway. 

Noonish, Dad comes over. I decide I've had enough of the indoors. The wind is vicious but the sun is shining for a moment. "I'm going outside," I announce and quickly bundle up in a clownish array of layers and weird colors. 

Just as I'm reaching for my boots a friend, Roger walks in with our "compound" mechanic. 

"Just leaving as I'm coming," Roger chides. 

I ask the mechanic about an issue with my car and if it's worth fixing, then I wave bye! 

I pass the mechanic's mother and wife. The wife calls out to me, "What's that spice that's good for sick animals?"

"Turmeric or cayenne?"

The wind is horrid. But at least I'm not stuck indoors. I climb a steep hill, breathe at the top, and think about the dress I'm altering for a grand ball. Should I also take the hem up an inch? I decide yes. 

I return to my company and embroidery. Ah. How lovely to be returned to my cozy couch with pleasant conversation. 

We discuss politics and drama and such. We say nice things about each other. I say I need to make a card for the girl in prison... her bd is coming up. Must make it and send it by Monday morning. 

At last I leave the circle of siblings, father, and friends and prepare then bake sliced zucchini and fish. But everyone leaves to eat at mom's house. 

No worries. My little sister has invited over some Mormon boys. 

I promptly offer them food, and they explain they've had dinner. I inform them they better never come to my house again unless they are prepared to eat. Then I educate them of the positive connotations of the word "exploit" and how they are really anarchists, and I'll tell them why. 

"You can't be a Christian unless you're an anarchist. You can't love your neighbor if you pledge allegiance to a certain country. And you most certainly do not understand harmony and unity if you believe in loyalty to government." 

Beautiful shock shone in their eyes as they said, "Yes, I am an anarchist."

I let them alone.

Roger came back to give me a suitcase I'd traded him a porcfest ticket for. 

I scrolled Twitter and laughed over my day and chatted with my sister as the Mormons discussed theology with my littler sister.

Then Melissa reminded me of this. 

I wanted to read and journal. I probably still shall.

But first to keep the word, and then for the other words. 

There shall be six more days, hopefully a tad more detailed. Was Melissa's idea a good? ;D

Some favorite tweets to end the day: 

This is part of a series requested by Melissa to share what my life looks the week leading up to Christmas.