Composing a What-If Day

If I were retired, I imagine a typical day would go something like this:

I’d wake up without benefit of an alarm clock;

I’d drink a large cup of coffee while reading several newspapers (in print, of course);

I’d text the most interesting newsy tidbits to friends;

I’d write in my journal, letting the pen or keyboard take me wherever my wandering mind was inclined to go;

I’d finally get out of my pjs, do more back stretches, dress for the season, then go outside. I'd wander at will in the neighborhood, maybe with binoculars, or a shopping bag to pick up necessary vittles on the way back, including a bowl of chicken noodle or split pea soup from the corner restaurant;

Back home, and before enjoying the soup, I’d sneak one of the lemon cookies I’d bought the day before at the local bakery;

Following lunch, I’d walk up to the library, read a bunch of magazines, maybe more newspapers, and schmooze with librarians and fellow patrons;

Then I’d browse the book and DVD aisles and, before checking out a bunch, I’d take a quick look at the book sale section;

Leaving the library, I’d get the bus north to the grocery store for another round of vittles, including Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia Frozen Yogurt and a bottle of wine, red or white, depending;

I’d get the bus south, after schmoozing with my fellow riders in the bus shelter, and stop at home to drop off the DVDs, books, ice cream, and wine;

Then I’d head over to the pub for a pint of Harp and whatever conversations I’d start or luckily join, many of which would be brogue-laden;

On the way home from the pub, I’d stop off for to-go Chinese or Mexican or Greek or Czech or Italian;

Before sitting down to dinner and a DVD—sometimes two—I’d sneak some ice cream and return texts and phone calls, usually to make upcoming plans to go to lunch or dinner, see a movie, visit a museum, watch a ball game, basket or base, or listen to live music.

Now of course I’m not retired—don’t ever plan to be—but as a practicing introvert, I do need a couple of these what-if days per week, though with an important addition: writing. Weaving it around and through all of the reading, the pubbing, the schmoozing, and spoonfuls of Cherry Garcia, making my way eventual way to some publishable stuff.

But in the end it doesn't matter what kind of day it is, because I know that much of it will find its way into and through my writing.

Lucky me.