Productive, With Pastry

Today was gloriously ordinary. The kind of day that does not demand applause but quietly checks boxes and leaves you feeling mildly heroic anyway.

The morning began with a chocolate croissant from Blacksburg Bagels, rescued from last weekend’s farmers market visit and saved for just the right moment. Flaky layers everywhere. Chocolate doing what chocolate does best. There is no elegant way to eat a croissant. There are only crumbs and commitment. I embraced both.

Then it was off to the Y for a swim. The first step into the pool is always a negotiation with temperature. After that, it becomes rhythm. Lap after lap, counting tiles, trying not to swallow half the pool during an ambitious inhale. By the end, everything felt stretched out and recalibrated. Swimming has a way of making you feel both tired and upgraded at the same time.

Back home, it was laundry redemption day.

Loads cycled through like obedient little machines of progress. The real triumph, though, was finally putting away a stack of hanging wash that had been lingering far longer than anyone wants to admit. Shirts reclaimed their closets. Hangers fulfilled their destiny. The room looks the same to an untrained eye, but I know. The closets know. Peace has been restored.

Lunch was a carefully assembled masterpiece of practical sourcing. Marble rye from Blacksburg Bagels, pimento cheddar from Jamison’s, and not-ham from Kroger. Stacked together into a sandwich that felt far fancier than it had any right to be. The swirl of rye, the sharp cheddar, the savory not-ham. Balanced. Satisfying. Slightly smug.

Nothing dramatic happened. No skunks appeared on the nature cameras. No groundbreaking revelations occurred between loads of laundry.

But the croissant was excellent. The swim was strong. The laundry surrendered. The sandwich delivered.

And sometimes that is exactly the level of adventure a Tuesday needs.