Kage Baker enjoyed Friday nights. Either we were on the road to somewhere, or we were comfortably snugged down at home.
It may have had something to do with growing up inside the weekdays are for school and weekends are for freedom structure. After 12 years of school, Kage went automatically to those schedules; even working didn’t change that, since she worked the usual Monday through Friday, 9 to 5 shift.
Spending weekends at a Faire didn’t count. A Faire weekend exists in a time warp that makes it last, subjectively, about a week: weekends were simply spent in another dimension of the multiverse. That same scholastic discipline meant Kage was never reconciled to having to work all summer, either. Faire weekends were like a week of summer for every week spent behind a desk. I don’t think she could have borne it, otherwise.
Strangely, once she finally stayed home writing full-time, Kage actually spent longer days – and more of them at a stretch – at her great oak desk, writing furiously. But she got to stay home to do it, and make her own hours. Working 14 hours a day was fine, as long as she knew she could knock off and go out for ice cream whenever she wanted.
To her credit, she never succumbed to the temptation to spend her writing day in her night clothes: Kage was a full-dress kind of grownup. She even wore shoes in the house, which was a discipline to which I was never personally broken.
At the moment, I haven’t put on an entire outfit of street clothes in 2 weeks. I’ve doing a lot of driving, to help out Kimberly with shopping and doctor appointments; but since I usually stay in the car, underwear and shoes have become optional. I am perfectly comfortable barefoot and in sweats. As long as I have my driving cap and my Kindle, I am prepared for most eventualities.
Good thing we haven’t gotten into any accidents. I’d have to get dressed, for that.
I’ll have to return to adult life and a hominid lifestyle over the next week, though. Next weekend, I am headed for BayCon, and I really should
Ah, Friday nights are not what they were.
The paramedics just left. Ray slipped in the bathroom, and we were unable to get him to his feet. If there were better help for Michael than two old ladies … but now Ray is back in bed, unharmed. The rest of us are winded, aching, tired. There are good nights and bad nights.
Well. Tomorrow, as Scarlet O’Hara said, is another day, Dear Readers. Hopefully things will be slightly more normal.
Things were easier with Kage.