An ordinary day starts with me waking up, feeding the pets, exercising, and having breakfast. I then go to work and come home by 6:30pm. It’s a routine I do daily, even on Sundays (except I’m home by 3pm).
We take for granted ordinary days. Ordinary days lie in between the extraordinary ones, which are occasions or life-changing moments.
Extraordinary days can be happy ones like weddings, graduations, and the birth of a son or daughter, or they can be unhappy ones like hospitalisations, funerals, and termination from employment.
Extraordinary days etch into our memories; ordinary days don’t.
It’s in the ordinary days when I am in my element, when I feel comfortable with what I do and the progress I make.
There are more ordinary days than extraordinary ones, but both are finite. They become fewer as we age.
I, therefore, look forward to the ordinary day as much as I may plan for (or dread) the extraordinary one.
And I toast to the ordinary day every morning, giving thanks I have at least one more coming.
Ellery's Essays 