Laura Chance
7:00 am - My alarm goes off, and I'm heavy with sleep. This week is a doozy, and the weight of my body matches that of the last four days. Debbie, my senior tabby, is loafed on the pillow next to me. Dottie, my younger tortie, is curled up at my feet. I snooze the alarm, lounge in bed with the girls, and respond to headbutts and purrs with pets and affection.
7:30 am - I rise, start a podcast, shower, feed the cats, and ready myself for the day.
8:30 am - Today's commute is abnormal. To get to the office, I usually catch a bus north and then transfer to a westbound bus. Not today, friends. Today I drive to Girard Estates to feed Bonnie and Mortie, my friends' cats, before catching the 17 bus north into Center City. The bus rolls up to the intersection of 20th and Ritner so quickly that I think it’ll sail right past me. "Hey!" I yell, waving a hand in the air. The bus driver plays it cool -- a requirement for operating any SEPTA vehicle -- and eyes me curiously. I feel a bit foolish, swiping my SEPTA card and taking a seat. Circling the drain for a minute, I think about The Fool as a tarot archetype: open to new beginnings, innocent, positive. Does that mean The World -- fulfillment, actualization, completion -- will meet me at the end of my route? Unlikely, but it’s a fun thought exercise. I note it for a future writing project.
9:20 am - I make it to the office, a giant Jenga-shaped building near the Schuylkill River, and hedge a bet with myself that I can grab a coffee and a breakfast sandwich before my 9:30 meeting. I ride the elevator to the cafeteria, grab my provisions, and head to my desk. Three women on the elevator down to my floor compliment my jacket, which puts a little extra pep in my step. I arrive at my desk just in time for the call. I join and, shortly after taking a bite of my sandwich, someone asks, "Laura, any updates?" Muffled with food, I respond, "Just a mouthful of sandwich." I look out the window.
10:40 am - On a different call with my immediate team we talk about death, fuzzy searches, and Scrabble. Nathan is dominating me and Megan in our in respective Scrabble games. He plays ORBIEST for 70 points, and Megan reels, "What does that even mean?" Privately, I vow to keep an eye out for the orbiest thing I can find today. Orbs, it turns out, are not very common. Someone cracks a joke, pronouncing my name as LAW-ra, and we agree that work-Laura is no longer "Laura". She is "Lawra".
11:00 am - I find my work groove, preparing a presentation I'm giving next week and testing bugs. My phone starts to buzz as the block thread excitedly shares an Inquirer article reporting the redevelopment of a shuttered movie theater two blocks from our homes. In this case, a rising tide does lift all boats. I retest a bug and this time my efforts yield success. Because my job is mostly writing emails, I spin one up to share the good news with our vendor, including some feedback about the user experience -- another significant component of my job. It is unlikely the user experience will change anytime soon, and I think to myself, “We’re all just setting and managing expectations, aren’t we?”
12:00 pm - The team heads to lunch at Goldie, where I order a falafel salad and steal fries from Megan. I am rich with funny and kind coworkers, and we laugh and share stories and life updates over lunch. One of them is buying a new house, and we weave inside jokes and bits into a serious discussion about the cost of homeowner’s insurance. Our newest teammate doesn’t receive his sandwich, so Nick and I work together to make sure he gets his lunch. It’s all very mundane, but it’s also sweet and lighthearted, and I feel grateful to be a part of this particular team.
1:00 pm - I sit through two more meetings to round out the day and continue chipping away at my presentation. A few hours later, I leave the office for my therapy appointment, cutting through Rittenhouse Square and to head east. It is a particularly beautiful day, and I eye all the good pups in the park.
4:00 pm - I leave therapy and begin to head south. Unless the weather is extremely rainy, I always walk home on workdays. Since I need to feed Bonnie and Mortie, I head straight down 15th Street toward Girard Estates. Along the way, I spot new-to-me Philly gems and many, many Halloween decorations. Pumpkins, I note, are the orbiest things I’ve seen all day. A friend calls to check in and chat. They’re having work done on their house, and they refer to the guest room as "your room," which melts my heart. Chosen family is, perhaps, one of the most healing and fulfilling parts of life.
5:00 pm - I open the front door and Bonnie comes to greet me while Mortie runs and hides. I send a few photos to Becky before she and Louis video call me to see the cats and catch up on the week. Becky and Louis provide updates from Palermo, and Mortie, who has regained his courage, chomps at my fingers and wriggles like a worm. He is torn between wanting affection and wanting to play, becoming pure chaos. It’s lovely to see my friends. We wrap it up, and I hop in my car to head home.
5:35 pm - Another greeting from hungry cats, this time they’re my own. I feed the girls and sit down to write, unsure of how I want to spend the evening. I am tired and grateful for the quiet night.
6:22 pm - My parents call to catch up, pulling me out of my flow state. It's a slow week, so we chat about the weather. This morning it was 35 degrees in Georgia, which is uncharacteristic of southern weather this time of year, at least as far as we can remember. I do some quick Googling and find weather data that supports our theory. We chat briefly about medical issues -- mostly arthritis -- and the cats. My parents share that they completed a Nightmare Before Christmas puzzle, and I check their Instagram to see a photo. This is a movie beloved by our family, so I am excited to see what they’ve done. I wish there was more to tell them -- I always do -- but there isn’t much more, and we chat briefly about how unexciting life can be. We say our goodbyes, and I realize that I am hungry.
6:45 pm - Running out of steam, I heat up leftovers and treat myself to a guilty pleasure: the newest episodes of Love is Blind. This show is predatory and unhinged, but since seeing the first season I just can’t tear myself away from it and, every year, I tune in. Someone reveals they’re a sperm donor and surrogate parent to three children, which may or not be a dealbreaker for their partner. Another couple tortures each other simply by continuing to exist in the same space, and I wish they would just agree to disagree and split ways. A third couple does, and it is painful and messy. I am not convinced these two ever liked each other in the first place. Love is Blind doesn’t offer money to its contestants, so I’m often puzzled, wondering why miserable couples choose to stay on the show. I put myself in their shoes and imagine what they’re going through, how they got here, what they’re thinking. It’s dark but also funny and incredibly human. Now that I have emptied my brain of the day, I feel ready to fill it with nourishment.
9:30 pm - I ready myself for bed and pick my next work of fiction to read. This summer I joined a philosophy book club, and we’re currently reading Anti-Oedipus by Gilles Deleuze and Félix Guattari. Stylistically, it is one of the most circuitous, unnecessarily difficult, and frustrating books I have ever read. I have a very low tolerance for things that are unnecessarily difficult, so reading Anti-O is a practice in patience in addition to an expansion of my worldview. Since starting it, I’ve craved simple, direct prose as companion texts. I pull Hemingway’s A Moveable Fest from my “to-read” stack and get cozy in bed. Deb joins me to end the day as we started. I read for a bit and drift off to sleep.
Laura lives with her two cats, organizes a small poetry salon, and is a member of book and movie clubs. She loves cracking jokes with friends and contains multitudes. You can read some of her writing here: https://hastalogo.substack.com/
