An ordinary afternoon can become evidence in a story you did not yet know you were living.

You cannot tell which day is going to matter. An unremarkable afternoon becomes, in retrospect, the last normal one, or the beginning of something, or the evidence you keep returning to. At the time it had no weight at all, and it acquired significance only once the story around it took shape.

This argues gently for paying a little attention to ordinary days rather than saving your attention for the marked ones. Not to record everything, only to be present in the unremarkable stretches. They are where most of the material comes from later.