At some point today, I’ll be nodding off at my desk, wondering why I’m so chronically tired at work, the remnants of influenza A still hanging on in my wheezing chest while my head and sinuses are wrapped in a dwindling but still present layer of mucus.
Meanwhile, I’ve watched my daughter struggle to stay awake while studying as water polo has taken up mornings, evenings, and weekends, so we often find ourselves occupying the same space: me getting some instant coffee because our regular beans have gone sour, and she packing her backpack, fixing toast and an egg, and making her mayo/ketchup turkey and cheese sandwich.
This morning was especially wretched as my alarm went off at 4, then 4:20 a.m. to join my colleague on Zoom for our 4:30 a.m. writing session. I’d scheduled this one because at 6, a friend would be waiting at the trailhead, and by 7:30, I’d be at a class at the gym.
Except I wouldn’t. Trail friend canceled, and I decided at the last minute I was still getting over this flu, which means I’m up at 4:30 a.m. “for no reason,” and I’ll still be nodding off at my desk later today wondering why I’m so tired.
And yet, when I logged on a little late, there was my colleague, faithfully at his desk with the hope of churning out a few more sentences. And there was me, too, logging in through my phone since I’d neglected to charge my laptop and texting a quiet “hello” because we’ve got house guests.
It’s hard to overstate the relief I felt knowing someone else was enduring this torment alongside me. My writing started with complaints but quickly worked itself into a readable look at how Japanese and Filipinos came to the Santa Clara Valley, a paragraph that I owe entirely to Cecilia Tsu. And which took rereading the conclusion and introduction and a few other things over the course of a couple of days.
In theory, each moment would be infused with purpose that would drive us to our goals. In practice, when waking up miserable, it may be only our team, patiently waiting in the other side of a zoom call, or perhaps at the pool, that get us started when purpose is nowhere to be found.
I don’t think I’d call what I’m doing a “writing habit.” It’s semi-planned luck.
Somehow, that little start was enough to get me to sign up for a different, slightly less vigorous workout class. Let’s do this. I just need a quick nap now.
