My idea of a perfect day is a quiet house with plenty of iced tea (or free-flowing chai from Starbucks) and the knowledge that my family is happily engaged in other pursuits. Then, I can sit at the computer guilt-free and turn the ideas that spin in my brain into sentences that swirl through my hard drive. At the end of such a day, I imagine that I'll have perfect paragraphs and charismatic chapters that will require little editing and form the basis for my best-selling novel.
Today was not such a day, but it was a good day anyway. It started with allergy shots and an unexpected connection with friends, moved on to include a trip to AAA to finalize cruise plans and a trip to Target to purchase a board game, and ended on the floor of the living room playing Life with my daughter. She, not I, landed on the "Write a bestselling novel - collect $200" space and beat me two games out of two. Such is the game of Life.
I guess perfect or near-perfect days come in many varieties. When I have a great writing day, I think I've had a great day. When I have a great day with my family, I think I've had a great day. When I accomplish a lot of things and shrink my to-do list, I think I've had a great day.
The truth is, they're all great days - some even qualify as perfect, or near-perfect - and each of them helps me to appreciate the others. Because even if every day could include free-flowing Starbucks and perfect paragraphs, I imagine weeks of those types of days could eventually become tiresome. I know for sure that they'd become lonely.
And everyone knows that a best-selling novelist needs a following, and more importantly, someone to dedicate her novels to. Such is the game of Life.