I get up at 4:30 in the morning, write a scintillating 2000 words in the space of an hour and a half, make lunch for myself and the kid. We all eat a nourishing and tasty breakfast, then go off to our various days. None of us is bored by the work we do or the lunch we get. Work is pleasant and goes by quickly. I feel both necessary and valued. The kid is in a good mood and is delighted to see me when I get to our daycare provider's house. We come home, arriving at the same time as my husband. Dinner has magically appeared on the table (courtesy of some leprechaun I accidentally did a favor for years ago maybe?) and it's delicious. We eat it, enjoy it thoroughly, and go for a walk around the neighborhood, stopping in a park or two so the kid can run around and play on the swings. We return home. The kid goes to bed with maximum cuddling and minimum fuss. It is 8:00, and yet there is somehow still two hours left before it is 8:30 (same leprechaun?). The husband and I watch something together (Stranger Things, or the new Star Trek, or Elementary, or Brooklyn 99, or Doctor Who), then I go off to bed, where I drift off to sleep immediately and comfortably, without any restlessness in the night.
I feel like you can maybe tell exactly what the irritants often are in my day by the description above, which is not generally how things go.
It's not far off, though. I'm lucky. I do get up at 4:30 in the morning. I do write. It's usually more like 100 words in an hour and a half, and their scintillation is somewhat duller than I'd prefer. We eat, we go to work, we come home.
Sadly, I have not performed any accidental favors for mysterious members of the Fae, as far as I know, so one of us usually has to make dinner. By the time dinner is done, there's no time for walking, but straight to bed for both the kid and me. I don't usually sleep well.
Alternatively, we could be self-employed, and be working from Taipei, or somewhere in France, or Accra, or Peru. The kid would be learning about the world first-hand.
Or I could be a stay-at-home mom, writing during the times I'm not teaching the kid what a neutron star is.
Or maybe I would do nothing but lie in a hammock--that we don't currently have--eating apples and reading books.
Here's the real answer, though:
My alarm goes off, playing "I Got You, Babe," as performed by Sonny and Cher. It's 8:00 AM on the morning of February 2nd, it's snowing outside, I'm in Punxsutawney, PA, and I'm played by Bill Murray.
My perfect day changes constantly. It would need a lifetime of Groundhog Day do-overs to ever really be the perfect day.
I guess that's sort of what I have, really. Dream achieved, then!
Although I sure could use a grateful leprechaun.