You are probably wondering what this title is all about. It doesn’t mean that someone named “Vulgaris” has passed on to the netherworld. It’s the Latin translation for “Ordinary Days.” I took Latin for four years, and it has helped me with not only English but also Spanish and Italian. I liked Latin. It was one of the things that probably made me a really weird teen-ager.
So why use an ancient language, no longer in use, for a title of a piece I’ve written? It is Tuesday, the day I always start working on my Friday blog. You wouldn’t think that it would take me so much time to write what I write, but it does. Some weeks are easier than others in that something bizarre, or at least interesting has happened to me, and it is enough fodder for this blogger.
It’s an off week, filled with…get ready for it…vulgaris dies…“ordinary days.”
I haven’t had too much of anything worth reporting happen, but maybe it’s because I was back east, and the last few days have had me catching up with bills and laundry and emails. I must be on every email list in the universe because I blink, and at least 50 new ones are popping up everywhere. I long for the days when I would be so excited as an AOL newbie to hear “You’ve Got Mail!” when I’d sign-on. My heart would beat a little faster with the thought that I was going to hear from someone I knew…or get some incredibly unbeatable offer to purchase something I didn’t need.
In those days when I signed on, Hugh Grant would say, “You look lovely today!” (to which I always responded “Thank you” because he couldn’t see that I was in the same sweatsuit I'd had on yesterday, but with a different t-shirt) and then he would exclaim, “You’ve got let-ters!” in that amazing British accent, (to which I always responded in my best sarcastic tone “Reallllllllly?”)
Hugh and I had this early morning conversation for many days, over my first cup of coffee, since I was newly single, and I realized that I could have some celebrity speak to me through my computer. Nothing can make your day start right like having this handsome, sexy man tell me I look great. Even though he’s never actually seen me and probably never will. It beat hearing The Ex saying, “Are you really going to wear that?” (he never really said that, but it was the funniest thing I could think of to write at the moment.)
So, my daily routine (and it is very much vulgaris although not at all vulgar ) this week has yielded nothing about which to ramble.
I get up in the morning, turn on my computer (it has a little trouble getting going just the way I do), go upstairs to my $30,000. one-cup coffee maker (That's how many AmEx points it cost to get it) and fill my mug, come downstairs, see what has happened overnight in the world, get dressed, and go to some form of exercise most mornings, not without berating myself for signing up for these torturous hours.
Then I come back home and start sorting through emails (again), and write…a blog or something else. The cocktail hour comes between 5 and 6, and that’s when I catch up with my Facebook friends and my Words With Friends games. A little TV and off to bed. Maybe some reading if my eyes aren't already done in from s scanning the computer screen most of the day. That’s it.
*Yawn*
So, my “exciting” schedule for the rest of the week includes an added Yoga class on Wednesday (heaven knows I need it; I’m not any more flexible than I was five months ago when I started) and attempting to find my other People magazine which I appear to have misplaced in one of the piles of catalogs and magazines I think I am going to read.
*Yawn, again.*
I’ve already mailed the Hallowe’en cards to all the grandkids, and I’m caught up on birthday cards for the foreseeable future. I even called my parents this week, so there is not much left, other than writing, on my to-do list. However, in my gut, I have this gnawing feeling that all H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks will break forth next week. And then I will have a better blog than this week’s.