Day 3

Some days will be uneventful; day 3 was one of them. My critical self – I’ll call her Antagonist, an integral part of every story – asserts that such a day doesn’t even deserve an entry. We argue.

What did you do today? she demands.

I looked at facebook.

I did two loads of laundry.

I fed a cat sausages.

I spoke to my sister.

And what did you achieve?

Clean sheets.

A happy cat.

Is that all?

I planted radishes and lettuce in the garden.

I wrote three sentences – one of them incomplete.

I started a funding project on kickstarter.

I made a salad with leaves I picked myself.

Antagonist is not impressed. She’s mean, and she feeds on my fear and my frustration. She makes a “pff” sound, and dismisses me with a flick of her wrist.

You might as well give up, she suggests, without even looking at me.

And I’m tempted. But then it occurs to me that if she’s the Antagonist, that makes me the Protagonist, the hero of this story. And heroes become heroes by overcoming adversity, finding their way around the obstacles strewn in their path, and triumphing over the villains. And sometimes adversity takes the form of a perfectly ordinary day, in which no literary masterpieces were created, and the most heroic thing I can do is to accept that that’s OK. That there will be days like this, and there’ll be other days, better, worse, good and terrible, days when I will question everything, and days when I will slay the fiercest dragons and be crowned Queen of Sifnos. And each day will be worth as little or as much as the one before, and the one after.

Hang on, I say to Antagonist as she gets up to leave, impatient with my lack of response. There’s more:

I swept the leaves in the yard.

I tidied up my wardrobe.

I went to the beach.

I bought tomatoes and beetroot from an organic farm.

I made a tentative agreement with the farmer to help him with planting in exchange for vegetables.

I did yoga at dusk to the sound of classical music.

I went to a dinner party and met some lovely people.

I looked at the moon.

I read my book.

I slept on clean sheets.

Antagonist looks bored; she even gives an exaggerated, theatrical yawn to illustrate her point. She obviously has very little faith in my powers of observation. Who cares, she says.

I do. And I’m not bored. I am the hero of this story, and I don’t need to slay dragons on a daily basis to prove it.  And day 3 was neither a waste nor an obstacle, and I will not stumble on it. Nor will I step over it, casually, as if it meant nothing, on my way to day 4. There will be days like this. And it’s OK.