Really, it was. If the goal of this project is to portray a day in the life of our town, capturing both the mundane and the extraordinary, then my contribution will fit right in. It pretty much covers the whole day.

It was a day like any other. I woke up around 6:30, listened to the birds singing for a while, got up and got dressed, came downstairs to make coffee, opened the door to let the cat in and get the paper (the Journal-World, of course), fed the cat, went into my office (I telecommute to a job back in the D.C. suburbs, as managing editor of a bimonthly health policy journal), turned on the computer, and started to work. I turned on the XM satellite radio to 77, “Audio Visions” (the new age channel), ate a bowl of organic rice cereal, drank my coffee, skimmed the paper, read the overnight e-mail, including the daily New York Times and Washington Post, then launched right in.

It was a workday like any other. I whittled away at the copyediting of a long paper on substance abuse benefits in employer health coverage (they are eroding), answered some queries from authors and fellow editors, read some galleys, made a couple calls. I sent a posting to an editors’ e-mail list about the Greensburg tornado. At 11 a.m., I turned the XM radio to channel 167, Air America, for the Ed Schultz Show (progressive talk radio). Before I knew it, lunchtime had arrived. After a turkey sandwich and some leftover acorn squash, and a glass of iced tea, I was back at it again. At 1 p.m. I turned the XM radio to the Royals-Athletics game. That turned out to be a mistake, as the As thumped the Royals 17-3.

But somehow the afternoon flew by. I edited some press releases and blog postings, finished up that article on substance abuse, answered e-mail, visited a few blogs, discussed how to type diacritical marks in Portuguese with a fellow editor, updated a couple of programs, and rebooted the PC. At 5 p.m. someone knocked on my door. It was Susan, whose garden is on this year’s master gardener tour, June 2-3. I am compiling the list of plants for her extensively planted gardens north of town; she was here to drop off pages and pages of handwritten notes. We chatted about gardens and cats for a few minutes, then she left. I finished up my work, put on my walking shoes and clipped on my iPod, and went out for my daily two-mile walk (all the way down New Hampshire to 23rd Street, over to Mass, then all the way back).

As I returned, my cell phone was ringing in my purse on the chair; it was my parents, who live in a small town north of Wichita. We solidified plans for a pre-Mother’s Day get-together on the 12th. Then I picked up the phone again and ordered a couple Jimmy John’s sandwiches for my boyfriend and me (him: Big John; me: Sorry Charlie). We spent the rest of the evening channel-surfing, then turned in early.

My day was just like many others. But this narrative should serve as a contrast, so that the extraordinary days others had will stand out against the plain backdrop that was my May 10.