I'm sitting on the couch, doing some internet business. I've had a delicious and none-too-healthy haloumi pasta and two glasses of wine, and I'm feeling a whole lotta Monday lethargy. I planned to make a start on an essay tonight. The same essay I planned to make a start on yesterday. Yesterday, instead of making a start on my essay, I went for a long walk up Sydney road with Leith, just to get some fresh air, and also a book, a record and a new pair of bathers. And some gourmet chocolates. And now all I want to do is go to bed, read my book for 20 minutes and then fall asleep with my glasses smooshed on my face until Leith gets home from his rehearsal, laughs at me, and turns off the light.
I'm sort of mildly disturbed at how much I want to sleep, watch tv, and generally laze about at the moment. I sometimes go through intense bouts of productivity: I can work long hours, start baking projects at 10pm, get up early and go for long runs, and use every minute to the full. But the last week or so has been notably relaxed.
I'm a bit annoyed at myself - all the things I haven't done in the last few days (run, study, bake, call friends I should have called etc etc) that I should have done. And there are things I've voluntarily let slide. Things that aren't essential, but that still add value to my days. Things like writing on this blog.
But at the same time, I can't get too worked up over it, because life is good, and I'm relaxed and happy. Maybe I shouldn't be. I can't help but think that I need to knuckle down a bit more. After all, most of the things I'm not doing are things that no-one apart from me can hold me to - they're things I want to do. So I'm being a bit perverse. But actually, it's not very often I get a chance to take it a bit slower, and so I'm going to let it go on for one more day...
Pine mushrooms, pasta and not much else
3 years ago