I have a temporary subscription to the New York Times. Some people may bask in the glory of being able to read the news anywhere and everywhere, as much as they want, for eight weeks. Other people might enjoy flipping through back issue upon back issue of movie reviews. And then there are those who, like me, love the unlimited access to the Sunday Routine articles.
If you haven’t read one, the premise is that, in the Sunday paper, the New York Times follows around a well-known New Yorker and sees how they spend their Sunday. The articles are quite short and don’t offer any hard-hitting insights, which is exactly why I love them. These quick glimpses illuminate a universe that feels so wholly established when looking in. It’s fascinating.
I wish my days fell into the routine-driven universe that epitomizes the column, but, apart from my ritual croissant, they don’t. Viewed from the inside, my days are bland and ordinary full up with Italian class, blogging and complaining about the state of the kitchen. Viewed from the outside, well, I’m going to guess I shouldn’t be complaining. Ever.
Every weekday morning, when classes are on and probably even if they aren’t, I get up at half seven. My iPod alarm goes off to the sound of bells and I snooze; however my eyes are always open from the moment the alarm rings. I begin envisioning my day and setting up my positive outlook.
My breakfast is the same every single weekday. Microwaved oats with frozen raspberries, some greek yogurt stirred in, a scoop of nut butter on top and a sprinkling of raisins. On the side, I have a cup of tea. My filofax is laid open on the table so I can see what’s on for the day in order to better prepare. It’s my quiet time, don’t even think of turning on the television or radio.
I break for coffee. Always. It might be El Bosque fresh from Two Day Coffee Roasters, or some La Colombe, made in my beloved Moka pot. Whilst drinking, I blog. It’s one of the few times during the day that I can be certain I will have some solid time to sit down and write, so I always take hold of it.
That’s generally where the predictableness of my day ends. If I’m being truthful to myself, I kind of having the freedom to plan my days myself. I know the time will eventually come when my schedule will be mapped out for me. I try to appreciate doing work that I more or less enjoy in whatever manner I choose.
Dinner always comes too quickly and I squish my way into the kitchen to get some counter space. A typical Emilia dinner is such: scrambled egg cups with too much mustard, roasted vegetables with garlic (I’m all about asparagus and mushrooms recently) and a grain on the side. It’s quick, easy and always delicious!
My housemates generally make dinner around the same time as I do and the television is usually turned onto Big Bang Theory, which invariably becomes Hollyoaks at seven. Scary stuff.
Then I get ready to start the whole thing over again.
What’s one thing that is always part of your daily routine?