Those of you who are Aaron Sorkin fans may recognize the title of this post as an often-used trope that he uses in season or series finales. I heard him talk about the origin of it years ago, but I honestly don't remember what he said, because the kind of day it has been today is long. But the Vulture article that I will include below says that Sorkin looks at writing a finale as an opportunity to answer that question, which I thought might be a good way to write a blog post. What kind of day has it been?
Yeah, I'm still going to go with "long," as the answer. Not a bad day, and not a great day only because I started from a place of no sleep, Maybe I got a few hours of sleep, but it was that weird sleep in which you are half awake and thinking about a hundred things. Sometimes the asthma / bronchial / acid reflux combo I have at night decides it's going to torture me, and last night was endless.
I got up early to transport some kitties for the shelter, something I enjoy doing because I get to meet and visit with the cats, and it's a way of helping without me doing more than going to the shelter and driving to another place with a cat or two or three, be it for foster, or a vet appointment. There are some mornings that you never really wake up, you know, you just stay in a fog. Maybe you don't, but I do. So today was a foggy day in Erica town.
I got home, remained foggy, but continued to have coffee hoping it would eventually kick in. I was saying to a friend today, when I woke up a year and a half ago in intensive care and they took the tube out of my throat, the first thing that I did was ask for water.
The second thing I did was ask for coffee.
After telling myself I would get a certain number of things done regarding tackling job-hunting tasks, and do as much as I could to feel productive, I wasn't productive. But neither was I sitting around. The day was over before I knew it, and then I went to my sister's for dinner with her and my three amazing, wonderful, adorable, beautiful, funny, charming, witty nieces. We ate chicken I made yesterday, thanks to my new thing where apparently I cook now. Later my sister took my fourth niece, three-year-old puppy Perla, for a walk. Do you remember in the Flintstones when Fred arrived home and Dino was so happy he would trample Fred to the ground with joy and affection? That is how Perla greets me. Knocks me down like one of those things that you punch and then it hits the ground and floats back up for you to hit again. Do they still make those? Those are real, right? Did I make them up?
I'm going to have to Google.
So Perla gives me snuggles and cuddles which also involve accidentally knocking me down but she's cute and I love her so it's okay. If I am ever having a truly bad day and need to feel appreciated, I can walk into my sister's house, and hear any one of three voices shout, "ERICA!" with joy and then run to greet me. I take a really long time to leave places, and it always takes me an especially long time to leave my sister's because I have to make sure each niece feels like they have received enough Aunt Erica attention and love, and sometimes one of them wants another hug, and then another one has to also have another hug, and then a third one wants a high-five, and then another one wants a high-five. And it goes on like that.
So the answer to "What Kind of Day Has it Been?" Tiring, but good. I'm glad I got to see my nieces and beat them at Uno. I mean, I'm glad I got to see my nieces and spend time with them and make sure they all feel equally loved and happy. If I see any sad faces, I make sure they smile by doing what Chachi's mother did on Happy Days, grabbing their chins and saying, "Look at this face! Is this a face? Is this a face?"
Geez, maybe I made that up too.
Please enjoy this adorable picture of my almost five-year-old niece, Frida. Also pictured: Me.
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