Alone Time.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Nothin’ But A Good Time.”

No alarm set, slowly waking up with the day after a night of well rested sleep. Finding one of my favorite outfits to wear, my hair cooperates and keeps frizz at a minimal as I head out the door.

Arriving at my favorite cafe, the table by the window is available so I can sit and watch the boats and kayaks around the dock in the early morning fall air, sipping the best coffee I have ever tasted. My pancakes arrive, light and fluffy with the perfect amount of butter and syrup on top. A book perched on the table, enjoying the solace in my  morning.

On the drive home I listen to the album Red, one of my all time favorite albums, driving down the winding island roads back into town, towards the conveniently named Bookrack used book store. I wander the dense racks searching for a novel, or four, to take home and enjoy. I peruse the comic section, eyeing the posters, wishing I had enough money for the antique dolls on display.

I leave the store with my purchases, too many books but a whole lot of smiles, as it starts to drizzle. The rain washing the air of a stale summer, reminding me of my love for pnw in the fall, driving home with the windows slightly cracked so I can still inhale the scent of the rain.

At home I undress into loose leggings and an oversized tee, my fuzziest socks pulled up to keep my calfs company as I snuggle into the couch with a cup of tea and one of my new books. Eventually, I fall asleep.

I awake to the sound of my mom coming home from work. We have a snack of apples and peanut butter as we talk about our day and she inspects my book haul, and threatens to steal them later. We change our clothes and head out to our barn.

I’m greeted by my mud covered horse, who I begin to work on cleaning up. The smell of horse in the air, and all over me, I’m the happiest I could be.

Back in the house, my dad has fixed dinner, which we all wolf down immediately, just enjoying being in each others company. I head up to shower, taking as long as possible to enjoy the bubbles and the hot water all around me.

Into bed, early enough to enjoy more of my books. More tea. More of my alone time.


The First.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweeping Motions.”

currently, I am laying in my bed with a comforter snugged around me, surrounded by the messiest state my room has ever been in. dirty clothes in baskets, on the floor, drapped over the couch, basically everywhere BUT the dresser and closet. my books are piled up in little piles, making little skyscraper cities I try not to step on in my Godzilla state of maneuvering around the mess of it all.

I guess it got this way because of life. three weeks away from moving, still working a full time job, and having classes all take away from my cleaning abilities. most of the time, getting my clothes washed and into a basket is all there is time for, and that is okay.

I dream of having my room organized and clean on a regular basis, a time where everything has a place. books will be on their bookshelves, clothes will be in drawers, and there will be no clutter.

it’s not that time just yet, but soon.