What the fuck?
There are dozens of things I could have done today.
I could have finished reading the new Rebus.
I could have started reading this month’s Bad Girls book (My Real Children).
I could have worked on my panto lines.
I could have finalised the panto programme.
I could (given that it wasn’t raining) have planted the rest of the crocus bulbs before the first frost.
I could have pulled all the dead vegetables out of the garden.
I could have done my filing.
I could have tidied up my desk. I could have gone for a walk.
I could have finished shifting art around to accommodate my new painting.
I could have done a load of laundry.
I could have tackled the summer to winter drawer swap.
I could have put my favourite tunes on and danced around the house.
I could have got the broom out and tackled all the cobwebs.
I could have made a batch of muffins.
I could have baked cookies to take to the rehearsal tomorrow night.
I could have worked on my play.
I could have done any one (or more than one) of these things. Or any one of many, many other things. But I didn’t.
Instead, after doing my French homework on the tablet whilst finishing my cappuccino in bed, I decided to have one game of backgammon. Not spider solitaire. I’ve been cleaning for nearly a fortnight. One game of something else would be okay, wouldn’t it? Oh, ha, bloody ha. Four hours later and I’m finally out of bed.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
maybe you just need the downtime