A Saturday In Prose

As I was reading my email, the The Write Practice had a post about writing what you've lived. Experiencing things and not just writing "he replied angrily", but rather explain how he looked and acted that made him angry.

After reading that, I thought, well I think I'll try it. So here is half my Saturday in prose.

"The day began in not the way you would think. Early this morning around two o'clock, I was still reading my latest Agatha Christie. Finally, I finished and dozed off, only to find myself wakened by a blaring noise in my ear. Of course my alarm would go off the day I don't want it to. The thing was faulty and seemed to know exactly when I didn't want it. I turned it off and promptly rolled over. Half an hour later, my mom popped her head into my room to give me the details of the day, most of which I didn't process anyway. I knew what time we had to leave and that was all that mattered.

By rights I should have gotten up then. But the late night had left me tired and unwilling to proceed with normal life. I lay in bed for as long as I felt was safe and finally, with only twenty minutes left before my deadline, I rolled out of bed.

It took me only 15 minutes to get completely ready. I was quite proud of that time. I can't help but laugh at the barbie doll girls that find it necessary to spend hours in front of a mirror. It's possible to get so much more sleep my way.

We leave for the softball fields only a few minutes after. My dad, mom, and younger sister all accompany me. Or rather, I'm the one tagging along.

The ride is long and uneventful until my dad suddenly slows down on the highway. I look up from my daydreaming to find out why.
"Looks like Jeremy blew out a tire. Should we go get Carigan?" My dad asks. A man from our town was taking his daughter to the same place. We turn around.

We gave the girl a ride and soon we were at the Softball complex. Now that I was there, I began to question my decision to come.

The air was hot and muggy. Time seemed to stand still, hours past. Finally, the first game was over. Lunch came and went. Getting tired of the heat, my dad decided to run the AC in the car. It was heavenly. The air was cool and brisk and I wanted to stay there forever. Alas, there was yet another softball game. I reluctanly left the cool of the van.

I made my way to the concession stand with the thought of a giant pickle occupying my mind. Paying the fifty cents eagerly, I walked away. Forgetting for a while the misery of heat. The sour taste filled me with memories of summer and fun days. I couldn't help but smile.

I can still taste the pickle in my mouth. I sit watching the game from the outfield. The air has turned grey and forlorn. The sun is hiding and I find that once again, I have nothing to do but browse the internet on my phone and actually watch my little sister."

I would write more but it's beginning to rain. You just got an unedited version of my day! Hope I didn't bore you! ;)

Over and out!