
This is a satirical day in Orlando Bloom's life. You can read about his actual (bizarre) daily routine here.
It’s 6.30am.
Katy is asleep beside me because she’s been up all night feeding our seven-month-old daughter. Still, I’m annoyed. I only got seven and a half hours sleep and Katy knows my sleep tracker likes me to get at least eight. If I don’t it goes into the orange zone instead of the green zone and that gives me a sense of discomfort I don’t appreciate.
As I get up, I hear Daisy’s cries coming from the other end of our 17-bedroom home. I can’t remember which one she’s in. Eventually, I find her and pat her gently while smiling, but she’s screaming and it’s honestly quite rude. It’s time for my morning chant and it can’t wait.
I decide if I chant loud enough it will a) wake up Katy so she can tend to the baby, and b) drown out the sound of the crying. So I chant for a solid 20 minutes, without taking a breath. When Katy finds me she tells me our seven-month-old is more mature than I am, and I explain that that’s ridiculous. Daisy isn’t nearly clever enough to have thought of this ploy.
After my chants, it’s time for me to read some Buddhist texts and yes, I obviously add them to my Instagram stories. I’d like it noted that this is the ONLY time I look at my phone in the morning because I don’t want to get sucked into a social media black hole that involves, for example, turning your religious beliefs into something performative.