Alright, now that I’ve successfully moved to London—albeit with a few scratches—I can finally retire the travel stories. Not that they won’t pop up again in the future, but this current travel recap is, well, capped.
With that said, I’ve been in London for a couple of months now, and I’m finally starting to carve out some semblance of an at-home routine. For my type-A self, this has been a long time coming. I thought I was so organized in moving here, but… well, reality had other plans.
So, what does a day in my life look like? Honestly, this might be the most boring thing you’ve ever read because, quite frankly, my days can often feel that way.
First things first… the wake-up call. I usually wake up to find Raffi nestled comfortably on my head or in the crook of my neck. I know that the minute I make any sort of movement, he will be upright and looking down at me as if he’s been waiting for this moment all night. I mean, I couldn’t really ask for anything more… he’s quiet about it, so no need for any obnoxious alarms, and he makes it damn near impossible to check my phone first thing in the morning—a welcome reprieve from the endless stream of notifications that I’m definitely not ready to deal with yet.
Once Raffi’s made sure I’m up, his morning routine takes over. Out he goes for his first round of business while I prepare his breakfast, heating it up for precisely 28 seconds because he currently won’t eat it any colder or any warmer—because yes, he’s that particular. He then must be let out to relieve himself a second time, to which he finally finds himself satisfied.
No, this isn’t a day in the life of Raffi, I promise, but he does command all the available attention first thing in the morning.
Breakfast for me is usually an afterthought. I’m not much of a breakfast person, so it’s either some toast or a couple of eggs and a smoothie that tastes vaguely like grass but checks off one of the ‘fruits and vegetables’ boxes for the day.
Next up, a bit of phone scrolling—because who am I kidding, I’m not going to lie and pretend I do something more virtuous. But then I do meditate. 10-15 minutes depending on my level of anxiety and ability to sit still.
Then it’s skincare, followed by getting dressed in one of the three outfits I’ve been rotating for the last month. Comfort is key in this household, and variety is overrated.
Now it’s Raffi’s favorite time of day. Of course, he shifts the focus to himself. I kid, I kid. It’s also one of my favorite times of the day… the walk. I’m a huge proponent of no music or podcasts on walks:
1) It’s me and Raffi time. I want him to have my full attention.
2) So I can enjoy the sounds of nature and horns honking [I do live in London, after all].
3) I’m a single woman and just really like to be aware of my surroundings.
Once we’re back home, I shower and then procrastinate until it’s time for lunch. It’s amazing how clean my home becomes when I have work to do—let’s just say it’s spotless right now. Lunch is usually whatever I’m hyper-fixated on at the moment. Right now, it’s spicy chicken soup and the best cheesy twisty bready bit from Gail’s.
After lunch, I should be working, but I still find myself avoiding writing. I have this thing where I can’t write if I have a to-do list hanging over my head. So, I use this time to go through it, tackling content to film or edit. I’m all about making a very, very specific list with each individual task on it. There’s something deeply satisfying about checking off as many things as possible—it’s probably the most control I’ll ever have over anything.
Okay, now we—nope, not write. Instead, I usually dive into visuals. Whether it’s a mood board, pitch deck, sizzle reel, or even a playlist, I need to tap into some extra creative elements to get in the right headspace.
But just as I’m about to hit my stride, it’s time for Raffi’s dinner. And of course, dinner isn’t complete without dessert—by which I mean cuddles—and another walk. I mean, he’s not going to walk himself, though I’d pay good money to see him try.
Eventually, I do get around to my own dinner, which always happens embarrassingly early. Since moving to London, I’ve noticed that my dinner time is more like everyone else’s afternoon snack time. But hey, unless I’m dining with someone, I eat whenever I want. And solo dinners have become the norm since I moved here, and early-bird special seems to be the sweet spot.
At last, the time has come to write. I’ve always preferred working in the afternoons or evenings. I think it has something to do with needing to get all the day’s tasks out of the way to make space for the words to flow. Now that fall is creeping in, the cozy atmosphere only adds to the appeal. There’s something about the early darkness and the quiet that makes it easier to focus—or at least that’s what I tell myself.
One day, I’ll likely write about my writing process in more detail—when I actually understand it myself. Sometimes it’s spontaneous, where I shuffle through notes I’ve compiled over weeks and realize, Hey, there’s something here. Other times, it involves a lot of planning and outlining, with varying degrees of success.
And then it’s off to bed, where I try to avoid screens. I’m working on it, but let’s be real—when the ideas are flowing, it’s hard to resist jotting them down. But that’s okay. There are ebbs and flows to everything. Right now, I’m in the middle of a creative wave, and I’m just going to ride it out for as long as it lasts.
So there you have it—an average day in my new London life. Not exactly glamorous, not exactly wild, but it’s mine. And somehow, in this quiet, slightly chaotic routine, I’m starting to find my rhythm.
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This sounds like a dream! I hope you’re loving London, I’ve always wanted to go 😊
I Love your travel stories! 😍😍😍 Specially when sir Raffi does it! 😘😘 Have a great week ahead!