*looks around furtively*

It wasn't us! The Nightwraith made us do it!

Hehe, ahaha, ahem. nightwraith17 thinks that because I celebrate Reformation Day instead of Halloween, my day is going to be that much more peculiar and interesting to her. This is probably rubbish, but here we go.

For the second time in a month...

*flourishes dramatically*

A DAY IN MY LIFE

9:00 a.m. precisely-according-to-my-bedside-clock-which-is-actually-fast: I wake up, due to my sisters talking in the room. "Guyyyyyyssssss," I groan in annoyance, but the fact that they woke me up at all probably means that I've got my due sleep. I was up till 12:30 the night before(writing of course), so when I check the clock I realize I got eight and a half hours of sleep, which is actually quite acceptable. I bounce out of bed, toss a "Happy birthday" to my newly fifteen-year-old sister, and run up the stairs to find that breakfast is cereal and all the kinds I prefer are gone. I force down two bowlfuls.

9:10 a.m. The morning meeting, held Monday-Saturday to discuss the duties/events of the day, comes to order. It being my sister's birthday, and Reformation Day, there is a lot to discuss. I would be lying if I said I sat through it without impatience, but at last we close the meeting in prayer and I walk into the kitchen to do the dishes, which is my Wednesday chore.

9:45 a.m. I'm back in my room for a brief period while several siblings hide the birthday girl's presents. This is done in short order, and the rest of us troop upstairs to the living-room to watch the fun.

My sister happens to adore owls, and two of her presents are owl-themed, which thrills her into absolute ecstasies. The family watches and laughs at her transports of joy.

10:15 a.m. I plunk myself down and do some intensive writing in Path of the Tempest. Last night I finished a section from Captain Rhodes' point of view, and rather than switching to Ceristen, which is technically supposed to follow, I find myself inspired for the next Captain Rhodes POV section and write that instead. Admire my finished handiwork, open up The War to check on something, and get distracted for literally half an hour rereading it. In the middle of this we are called to lunch.

1:00 p.m. Lunch is late. But afterwards we get birthday cake!!! Lemon with lemon frosting and lemon candies on top.

2:25 p.m. I finish the lunch dishes and come downstairs, nagged by the guilt that I have not updated my Facebook page in two and a half weeks. I alternate between peeking at transcripts of Legea talk-play and looking for a quote to post on said Facebook page.

2:45 p.m. I find a quote and put it together with a background on Canva.

3:40 p.m. The quote is finally posted on both Facebook and Instagram. I get sucked into reading more of The War.

4:00 p.m. I decide it is time to make some use out of my day, and so I brush my hair and head outside on a walk with Mercy.

4:50 p.m. We come back inside. I pull my hair back and put on my shoes in preparation to go to work. I look regretfully at my writing that has not been touched since this morning, knowing I won't get a chance to come back to it till late at night.

5:15 p.m. I walk past my mom making pizza dough in the kitchen for the party tonight, grab the car keys, and walk out into the almost-warm weather. The ten-minute drive to the dairy farm is uneventful, save that I pass several strings of trick-or-treaters in town.

5:25 p.m. I pull into the farm, punch in, and go out to the calf barn. The calves are kept in small stalls, each with a food pail and a water pail, and it's my job to dump their water out so that the afternoon feeder can give them their milk. There is also a set of weaned calves, which are no longer getting milk, and I go into the butcher room, turn on the hose, and fill several five-gallon pails with water to refill the water for these calves. They drink less in cold weather, which is a plus. Less for me to lug around.

Feeling competent and relaxed as I generally do with the first part of my job behind me, I saunter smartly back to the milking parlor. The second part of my job, spraying down, involves cleaning with a pressure hose the mechanical milkers, which get impressively covered in manure during their proximity to 320 cows. It usually takes me about 40-50 minutes to clean them, or approximately a minute per milker. But today, I am pleasantly shocked to find that one of the other farm hands has sprayed down 20 of the 40 milkers for me already. "Knew you'd be going to church tonight!" he says cheerfully, handing me the hose. "All yours now."

My heart warms intensely and I thank him more than once with all the earnest gratitude I can put into my voice. He's probably been working here since sunup, and yet he took time to make my day a little better. Instead of getting to the Reformation Day party half an hour late, I might actually be on time.

The milkers zip by, and I head to part three of my work, which is washing up whatever pails have been used over the course of the day, mostly in regard to feeding calves. I also empty the 50-gallon tub of milk into pails that will be used tomorrow morning, load the washing machine with the cloths used to clean the cows' teats, and scrub the red wagon.

6:30 p.m. I clock out. I haven't finished this early in months, but thanks to the help I got, I'll be less than ten minutes late to the Reformation Day party.

6:35 p.m. I pull into the church parking lot, singing Phantom of the Opera under my breath, and walk inside. All the tables are out in the sanctuary, and the stragglers are filling up their plates. An older lady whom we all affectionately call "Grandma" greets me delightedly -- "You made it!"

"I got help," I answer with a quick smile and look over the vast array of pizzas. Pineapple, apples, and a tray of chocolate-peanut-butter treats are also visible. Not many dessert options, though.

I sit down beside Mercy with a laden plate, and notice a short time through the meal that she has some kind of fruit pizza. "Where did you get that from?" I demand.

"The dessert table," she responds calmly.

I glance around. "Did they just put that up?"

She gives me the "my older sister is blind" look. "No, it's been up this whole time."

I contemplate this information. "How come I didn't SEE IT?"

I get a chocolate cupcake and reject it in favor of CHEESECAKE which I absolutely adore, beyond any other kind of dessert, and which I notice just in time to get the second-to-last piece.

Meanwhile, my birthday sister, who also works at the dairy farm occasionally, has got a present from one of the dairy farmer's kids, a girl about six months younger than me whom we'll call K. Kitchen utensils. Cow's tooth included.

"I washed it three times," K assures my aghast sister as Mercy and I crack up in helpless laughter.

Eventually the food is cleared away and the gathering settles down to watch David Brainerd: Missionary to the American Indians. Sometimes, the kids of church put on a play for Reformation Day, but nobody wrote one this year, so it's just pizza night and movie. The movie, done in a documentary style with lots of visuals and the occasional silent acting clip, is not put together in a particular stellar way, but it's very educational and I come away feeling like I know more about Brainerd than the clashing stereotypes that I've come across before. The video freely admits that there's no evidence to say that he was romantically involved with Jerusha Edwards(Jonathan Edwards' daughter), which also pleases me.

We close with singing "The Church's One Foundation", and a prayer. Everybody breaks up, and the chatting and fellowship persists for awhile longer, before people finally start heading out the door. I go home with the rest of my family, leaving my father (at his request) with the small car.

9:02 p.m. We're home. We three older girls relax in our room, listening to music, talking, and generally chilling.

10:15 p.m. We get in bed, and talk theology.

11:00 p.m. I turn the fan on so the other girls can sleep, get up, and sit down at the computer to do a little writing. I end up chatting with LeagueofSpammers and nightwraith17 instead.

11:15 p.m. My dad comes in to pray with us.

11:20 p.m. I spend half an hour chatting/exchanging memes with ChildOfThe1TruKing

12:00 a.m. Technically it is not October 31st anymore, but I haven't gone to bed yet. I am resolved to write one section in Path of the Tempest. I close my browser and write.

1:30 a.m. 572 words. I am happy. My eyelids have been dragging for an hour and I willingly curl up in bed, breathing on my icy fingers, savoring the warm embrace of bed as the fan hums in my ears and I drift away into welcome slumber.