I pull into space number one, search for the phone number in my contacts, and share my card number with the friendly voice on the other end of the line.
While I wait, I go back to the audiobook I had been listening to on the drive over: The Wicked King, by Holly Black. The sun is out, and I open the sunroof, roll down the back window.
I took a half day today—such a dreamy thing to do on a Monday. Before the week gets as crazy as I know it will, this rare half day helps me to get a jump start on my writing. I won’t feel as stressed about not having enough writing time over the next few long days if I can hit a groove today.
(I say this like I didn’t spend the majority of my waking hours over this past weekend writing. . . which I did. My life right now is a whole lot of writing.)
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the librarian approaching with two large bags. I am reading like a demon in this MFA program, and I am so appreciative of curbside checkout. She smiles like someone who genuinely feels a kinship for anyone else who would read this much as she places the bags in the backseat through the open window.
I thank her, and I can’t wait to crack into those bags.
I head to a local eatery where I’ll be able to sit outside (far, far from others)—reading, writing, and basking in the sunshine. I’m easing my way into the week.