The Perfect Day

The clocks stop. For breakfast I write a short story in one sitting. For lunch I have raspberry pancakes, write the first line of something new, fold it into seven sections, and put it away for tomorrow. After lunch I nap—it doesn’t matter how long, the clocks have stopped. (E is there; he’s finished his script.) Then I write the very last chapter of a new book.

Or, to put it simpler: the clocks stop. The perfect day will be the day the clock stops.

5 responses to “The Perfect Day”

  1. yojo says:

    That *is* a good day!

  2. yojo says:

    Is it wrong that, given this circumstance in a big city, I would go out on the street and dress people up in other folks’ clothes and the like? I mean, you could give a homeless guy some stockbroker’s wallet- dress the cop up in a dress- draw on people with magicmarker!

  3. nova says:

    No, not at all. I mean if we’re going to go all out here, the perfect day should involve stopping time and drawing on strangers!

  4. e says:

    yojo = Bizarro Amelie? 🙂

  5. LK says:

    A short story AND raspberry pancakes? I don’t know, but toss in a sighting of George Clooney, and that just might have to be the perfect day.

%d bloggers like this: