I fight crime. Then I come home and write stories.
Occasionally, I'll go back out again, or straight from work, and fight crime a little more.
So my day is the mad dash about the house getting everyone going, walk to the bus stop, walk from Harvard Square to Central - I could take the train the one stop, but my body is happier when I walk it, and so is my wallet, and I get more iPod time.
At BARCC, I manage all of the prospective and in-training volunteers, interns, and a whole bunch of community outreach/education stuff, as well as a lot of random unrelated things that have accrued under that position. I work a half-day, then slog home, where if I'm not too tired (I'm dealing with massive gluten fatigue; my biopsy is in two weeks), I get to write.
My daughter gets home at 3. So we get some hanging-out time before I make her start focusing on her homework. Then I get stuff done around the house, or nap, or read, or knit, til Adam gets home; then dinner and usually a few episodes of whatever show we're introducing Elayna to. (Pop culture is important here.)
Nighttime is sometimes for dates, sometimes for family cocooning, sometimes for group social stuff, sometimes for BARCC volunteer gigs.
Irregular, replacing any of the above: BARCC public education volunteer gigs. Here's a PDF of the workshops we do. Also I do survivor speeches and staff a table at fairs and community events, and help run the Clothesline Project. In the new year, we'll be starting a BARCC blog, too.
So. That. And then finally I take my nighttime meds and curl up in bed with Adam, a book, and one or more cats. And then I sleep.