On Friday night I was ill so I stayed in. I told myself that because I was ill I had licence to stay on the sofa and do very little. A small voice in my head said meekly,
"You could make something? That wouldn't make you feel any worse... maybe start that children's story, or edit your book, or even just make a handmade card...?"
"Shut up, can't you see she's ill?" the rest of my brain shouted.
And so I watched mindless TV and when I'd exhausted facebook's News Feed, I picked friends at random to scroll their walls. I was inevitably a bit cross with myself afterwards, as another evening of my life had vanished with nothing to show for it except some more non-contact with people I used to know.
Today I still felt ill and as it was snowing outside, I thought it sensible to stay in. I was actually excited about the prospect of the things I could do. I had the whole day ahead of me; it was snowing and yet there was bright sunshine outside! I had visions of myself sitting curled up under a blanket on the sofa, a steaming mug of tea before me, typing away at the laptop, and then later, getting the paints out and creating something, the soft sunlight streaming in and warming the carpet in squares. (In my mind, there was also a grey cat curled up in the corner and my flat wasn't in the middle of town but was positioned up by Corbiere, looking out over the sea.) Maybe it was the lack of the cat or the scenic view but somehow the day of creativity I was so excited about didn't occur.
So what did I do instead?
Well, it was only when I started making a mental list while brushing my teeth this evening that I realised it was quite enlightening:
- Made very nice poached eggs on an English Breakfast Muffin;
- Washed up;
- Shaped my eyebrows whilst listening to an episode of 'Paul Temple and the Madison Mystery' on BBC Radio 4 extra;
- Showered (and had a sing);
- Listened to some Emeli Sande and did some more 'singing';
- Did my make-up, trying to make my lips like Kimberly Wyatt (failed with the latter);
- Did a small amount of yoga;
- Spent a long time researching effective belly fat exercises and watching long videos by American personal trainers which explain which exercises don't work and try in a really annoying patronising way to convince you that you really need to spend $90 buying their film ("I charge $297 an hour and you're getting 4 hours on this DVD so I should charge you $1188 but I'm not a businessman, I'm your trainer and most importably your friend...");
- Painted my toe nails while watching the videos (waiting for them to get to the point);
- Purchased what I thought were downloadable videos of exercises designed to increase your metabolism which turned out to be a few Word documents with meal plans and exercise routines typed out; (I would complain but know that I bought it in a rush because I was fed up with watching promotional YouTube videos. Plus it wasn't the $90 one, it was only £8. Thinking about it I probably should have splashed out and got the $90 one after all...);
- Cooked some part-bake rolls for lunch and ate them feeling guilty about how much cheese I was eating (which wasn't that much actually);
- Washed up;
- Folded some laundry and hung some more laundry up whilst listening to another episode of 'Paul Temple and the Madison Mystery';
- Emptied my underwear drawer and folded everything into neat piles;
- Made a shopping list and wrapped up warm to go out in the cold (scarf having multi-purpose of keeping me warm and hiding red nose and spotty chin);
- Took a photo of myself wrapped up warm on Instagram and then deleted it, as it served no purpose other than making me seem vain;
- Walked to the Co-Op and bought food and kitchen gloves;
- Came home and faffed about on facebook;
- Prepared chilli con carne;
- Ate dinner and watched 'Moonrise Kingdom' (which was brilliant incidentally);
- Did some more facebooking (and googling of Wes Anderson);
- Washed up and cleaned the oven (yes you read that right);
- Removed my make up and tidied the two rooms I've existed in today;
- Got into bed.
The one that freaked me out particularly was number 14. Tidied my underwear drawer? What?!
Internally, I blame outside factors for not getting on with stuff and for not even trying to be creative anymore, but on a weekend when I have self-imposed isolation, do I return to the 'me' of childhood, scribbling in notebooks and using my imagination? No. I clean the oven and sort my knickers.
There's a mantra I saw on Pinterest (yes, I see the irony) which applies to me. It is this:
Stop fucking around and get Shit Done.
But I think I need to add to that mantra, for my own sanity:
Stop fucking around and get Shit Done.*
(*but if you do spend all your time fucking around, don't beat yourself up about it. Breathe in, breathe out. Open a beer and laugh at yourself.)
