call it a day
by Fred Aiken
My morning starts with the ritual of reading. There’s something about the stillness of early hours that makes words somewhat meditative. Whether it’s the latest novel I’m engrossed in or an article on economic trends, this time sets the tone for my day. Then, it’s off to work, where the first order of business is plotting out a strategy for any potential futures trades. It’s like a game of high-stakes chess with the market, requiring foresight and precision.
Roasting coffee is more than just a task; it’s a passion. The scent of beans turning from green to brown is both grounding and invigorating. When I’m not roasting, I read. It’s my fallback activity, a constant companion that fills the gaps between tasks. Occasionally, I manage to write—notes, ideas, or sometimes, just thoughts—if I’m not too distracted by the endless stream of information that modern life brings.
Lunchtime is a chess match with a side of food. The mental exercise is as satisfying as the meal, providing a refreshing break from work. My afternoons include a walk with my wife, a time to reconnect and unwind, even if just for a few minutes. It’s a small but significant part of my routine.
After work, the drive home is a transition period, a bridge between the structured demands of my job and the freedom of my personal time. Evenings are varied; I might dive into a video game, immersing myself in a virtual world, or sew if I have an Etsy order to fulfill. There’s a meditative quality to sewing, the repetitive motion of needle and thread creating something tangible and unique.
Stretching is my way of signaling the end of the day. It’s a practice that keeps my body flexible and my mind calm, a final act of self-care before sleep. And then, with the day’s activities behind me, I fall asleep, ready to start the cycle anew.
There’s obviously some variations to my day-to-day, but for the most part, it follows the above schedule. Though it’s not entirely inclusive of everything I do habitually. There’s the boring bodily maintenance routines that I imagine most everyone does, like brushing my teeth, showering, shaving, and washing my hands, etc., though not always in that order, and some of them I do throughout the day.
These habits, mundane as they might seem, provide structure and a sense of purpose. They are the threads that weave the fabric of my days, creating a pattern that is uniquely mine. While there are always variations—unexpected tasks, spontaneous outings, the occasional deviation from the norm—these routines anchor me, offering a semblance of order in an often chaotic world.
Fred Aiken Writing 