5:00 AM: Gentle sunbeams stream through my window. I flutter open my eyes and I rise from bed with no hesitation. After taking a deep mindful breath, I stroll outside to my gorgeous backyard and teach my daily Pilates class to the woodland creatures. They’ve chosen me as their instructor since I’m so pure of heart and braid. The deer are really making some progress, but the sparrows could work on their form.

6:00 AM: I harvest my entire breakfast by hand, picking the oats for my oat milk one by one and hiking 20 miles to gather the finest berries from a nearby mountaintop. I finish by whittling a bowl and spoon from a fallen spruce tree. While enjoying my breakfast I spot some fresh morel mushrooms growing beside the tree. I cup them in my hands and savor the moment. I then promptly dump them in the compost since I’m on the all-vibes diet.

8:30 AM: I change out of my rustic athleisure and get dressed for the day. Regardless of the weather I like to wear my favorite outfit: a chunky knit turtleneck sweater, denim overalls, and mug of steaming hot tea to clasp in both my hands at all times. The tea is strictly an accessory, not for consumption. It creates the illusion of coziness while slowly burning off my fingerprints so I can continue living my off-the-grid lifestyle.

9:00 AM: I begin my deliberate and meaningful bike ride to work. Despite living in the wilds of what I assume is Maine my home is somehow also near the city. My persistently gorgeous loose braid causes a lot of traffic jams from people gazing upon its beauty, this is the burden I must bear.

10:30 AM: My job is wandering around the farmer’s market with a tote bag full of locally sourced produce. I don’t actually purchase anything but my presence is aspirational to other shoppers. Think of it like how they used to hire models to hang outside the Hollister in the mall except with more dirt and vegetables.

12:00 PM: For lunch, I walk over to the beach and take in a hearty breath of the fresh sea air. A passing seagull offers me a takeaway box in case I want to bring some home with me. I tell him no thank you, that's it for me, I'm stuffed!

2:30 PM: I'm a big proponent of the two-hour work day. It really frees up time for me to meet my other loose-braided friends for impromptu hangouts where we clink our cups of tea together and bask in each other's presence. I find it so sad when women who can't pull off a loose braid are forced to work a ten-hour work day instead of living, laughing, and loving in the presence of their friends. I have a MoveOn.org petition to sign about it if you’re interested.

5:00 PM: I help my children with homework by whispering encouraging mantras in their ears. I didn't mention them earlier since they're so self-sufficient; I forget they're still minors. They’re both in a special charter school track where the kids act as teachers, classmates, and custodians. My son Flaxen can’t spell his own name but his confidence is through the roof!

6:00 PM: For dinner, we spend meaningful time together. We don’t make small talk like, “How was school?” Instead, we gaze into each other’s eyes and ask questions like, “When was the first time you realized that life is ephemeral?” This sometimes causes confusion since my daughter’s name is also Emphemeral but we make do.

8:00 PM: I get the kids ready for bed. Every night I gather pine needles and milkweed fuzz to rebuild their mattresses and craft them fresh corn husk dolls to snuggle with. As they drift off dreamily to sleep I tell them their favorite bedtime story, how in my early 20s I was desperately looking for a thing and then realized I could pull off a loose braid and the rest of my life was already written for me.

9:00 PM: Finally, time for some me time! I build a fire and simultaneously call my parents, all my elderly relatives, and my friends. I have deep, cherished conversations with everyone. I also clean the entire house and journal my feelings so beautifully that when I die my children will posthumously publish my witty observations. It’s nice to be able to carve out a little time for yourself.

10:30 PM: I almost forgot that it’s date night! I go to meet my on-and-off husband-boyfriend Rugged at his workplace by the coast. Rugged specializes in rescuing driftwood from vacation homes and putting it back on the shore. Rugged and I distance-parent so we don’t share a home or sense of responsibility for our offspring. He gives me a rough-hewn box he whittled himself. “Happy Anniversary,” he whispers. Every night is our anniversary, this is how we keep our relationship so fresh and alive. I open the box and gasp. It’s a small compact mirror that reflects my loose braid back at me. I am the luckiest woman alive.

12:00 AM: I fall asleep the second my braid hits the pillow and dream of doing it all again tomorrow.