31-day Blogging Challenge #10
An average day.
Nothing happens. If you want an interesting average day post, talk to someone with a life.
Sorry. I’m going to go think now.
. . .
. . .
. . .
Well, we could start with: and I woke up.
‘Cause I think that’s how average days are supposed to start.
An average day in the boring life of Loren.
An autobiography of Loren by Loren.
At either 8:30 or lunchtime, a groan of pure agony escapes the limegreen room in Loren’s House. Everyone in Loren’s House knows what that means: the beast has awoken. The grumpy banshee with an attitude problem will storm out of her room in an hour or so for food.
Wailing, she plops down at the table and drops her head against its wooden surface. She proceeds to moan about food and sleep and book characters and overrated things until she is fed.
After a nutritious breakfast of absolutely nothing, she will drag herself to a computer and start her daily internet routine: check blogs, recheck blogs, look at email, glance at blogs again, and, if no one is around, submerge herself in the dreadful waters of Pinterest.
Loren might decide that her pajamas are uncomfortable, so she will stumble into the dank reaches of Banshee Cave (her room) to pull on crappy clothes no one but Her Darkness would wear in public.
It is now roughly two hours and thirty minutes after she woke up, and she may or may not decide that it is an appropriate time to brush her teeth and hair. Most likely she shall procrastinate for several more hours before doing either of those things.
And now Her Darkness the Hooligan Banshee will stuff her face with the unhealthy delight of Chex Mix and fall down the stairs to watch Doctor Who, singing along with the theme song to annoy her older brother, His Nincompoop Toilet-drinker-ness. Many fangirl moments will follow in the next hour or two of British television.
After animatedly telling the Freckled Leprechaun (Mum) what happened in the episodes we watched with a mixture of interpretive dance and hula dance, Loren will read.
Stop interrupting me, can’t you tell I’m reading?
Then comes dinner, the gorging time. Her Darkness often has a book under the table during this event of gluttony.
Shoveling dessert in her mouth, Loren will check all her blogs again and post something. Then she and the Freckled Leprechaun will watch the clock and see how long it takes for someone to comment.
His Nincompoop Toilet-drinker-ness and Her Darkness the Irritable Banshee will watch more Doctor Who until Mum begins screaming at them to get in bed. The time is now 10:20. The TV watchers, still having to change into their PJs and brush their teeth, rush upstairs and work on those jobs.
And then Loren will crawl into her bed with a book, calling her cat’s name, and will read for about an hour or so before she gets too tired to read but not tired enough to go to sleep.
And that is an average summer day in the life of Loren.