i wake up at 7.34 a.m. to sunshine. pull a sweatshirt on, uncurl my legs, and roll out of bed. look out the window. there it is: a whole city being blasted with the rising sun for the first time in weeks. i put my running clothes on: leggings, shorts, long-sleeved shirt, t-shirt. if i layer up enough, i can drag myself outside to run when it’s barely forty degrees. i find my ipod and settle on cut copy.
i move through the surprisingly still morning, getting my groove on without hearing what my feet are dancing to. for once it isn’t windy and everyone else and their dogs on the harbor promenade smile at me in passing. i come back to my apartment with a dripping nose. hop in and out of the shower, real quick. once dressed, i eat müsli and a banana while half-watching the danish news, something about a comedian.
i bike into town on flat tires. spend the fifteen-minute ride thinking about all the small things i need to do in the near future. realize i might be stressing myself out; smile to myself when i cross the bridge and my black-wool-clad back is directly exposed to the sun. the sunlight feels good on my scalp and the wind massages it gently.
i drop off a resume with a smile. i don’t expect to hear back from the establishment. i get a text from anna, saying that today is just not a good day, but how about another? i guiltily buy a pair of jeans at h&m.
on the way home, i stop at a bike shop to pump up my bike. i struggle for a few minutes with the air compressor and the foreign valves. there is a line waiting for the mechanic’s attention. i walk my bike two blocks to another shop with a different kind of compressor and happily ride home on rock-hard tires.
at home, i pull eggs, tomato, bell pepper, and kale out of my shared refrigerator. my flatmate asks if i am making a frittata. in the pan, it turns into a scramble. we talk about school and vegetables.
i spend the afternoon reading, writing, reading, writing, and reading some more. somewhere in there i have a cup of green tea. i make a lot of lists, one of which is entitled “things you absolutely must avoid”: caffeine, alcohol, processed sugars, spicy foods, fatty foods like milk slices, which, i’ve recently discovered, are like ice cream sandwiches but with a vaguely orange-flavored foam filling instead of ice cream. no more of those for me. not that i was that impressed with them the first time around. i make mental notes of authors i need to read: anais nin, knut hamsun, noam chomsky.
by 4.45 p.m. it is dark outside. i decide that going for a walk is not really something i want to do and that the library can wait until tomorrow. the evening passes in a frenzy of danish translation, leftover soup, and brainstorming for my upcoming philosophy paper. i am reminded that my seven-year-old self’s self-discipline was enormously superior to that of my current self.