In The Life Of

Arrived at work at 9 a.m. Updated one motion workup with a late-filed opposition and wrote up one other workup on a separate motion. By 11 a.m., called work quits and pulled out an unfinished draft of a story I've been avoiding. Popped open a diet coke and the lunch I'd made that morning: tuna sandwich on Russian rye, parsnip and carrot salad on the side. Reread the unfinished draft at my desk and slowly plugged away at six new handwritten pages. Paced the halls in between writing different scenes and received an unexpected second bag of homegrown plums and peaches from my new gay-not-gay boyfriend (who, incidentally, has offered both to go purse shopping with me next week and to go shopping for work clothes with me and my mother this weekend). Ate a peach. By 3 p.m., called writing quits and delivered stacks of workups to various courtrooms to give off the impression of slaving away on the calendar. By 3:40 p.m., pretended it was 4 p.m. and started packing up my stuff. By 3:42 p.m., pretended it was 5 minutes after 4 p.m. and hustled out of the building. By 4:30 p.m., home. By 4:35 p.m., wriggled out of suit, put hair up in a ponytail, poured wine into a coffee mug. 5 p.m. boozy and happy, the end.