Day of Rest

I love sleeping in. When I was little, I reveled in the weekends where I could lay in bed until mid-morning and roll out to start the day with lunch. I still shudder when I think about having an 8 a.m. government class during freshman year, and I refused to take anything before 10 a.m. last year.

Sunday, my natural body clock woke me up at 7:57 a.m. On the one hand, I know that this is probably because I’ve pretty consistently been waking up at 8 a.m. for class and meetings and interviews. On the other hand, I still had an hour before my alarm would go off, prompting me to get ready for a church service down the street. I was planning on observing the service and trying to find a subject cover for a story.

I ended up getting ready much quicker than expected, and since I had extra time, went to the church early so I could scope out the farmer’s market happening nearby. I checked out some stands and spoke with the artisans and farmers, but didn’t really come up with any leads.

At the church, I found a seat in one of the pews near the back of the room. Despite speaking with some of the members there, still nothing. I was about to speak with the reverend when I realized the time and had to go to work.

In the afternoon, I trekked over to Columbia College to visit the Mid-Missouri Peaceworks Sustainability Fair. I was honestly hoping to find someone who could put me in touch with Mary, the subject I was looking into for the chicken-raising story my Jeanne wanted me to cover. No such luck, but I talked to some more leaders of organizations and got contact info for them as well.

Feeling defeated, I got back to my car and decided to drive around with the windows down and music up to find some kind of enjoyment in the beautiful September afternoon. Just as I was about to pass Jefferson Jr. High, I noticed something different.

On the residential side of the street, there was a group of three men spray painting the side of a woodshed. My curiosity piqued, and I pulled around the corner to speak with them.

After deciding how to introduce myself as a reporter and still maintain a conversational rapport, I struck up a conversation with one of the men.

Twenty minutes later, I had a story subject and would prepare for my first artist profile.

So even though it took an entire day of planning on where to be at a certain time to scope out a story, it was aimless walking and driving around that got me to where I needed to be.


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