Falling Into The Weekend
After a seemingly never ending week filled with stress and drama I can't write anything about, the weekend has finally arrived – and not just any weekend – a long weekend.
While most people will be lazing around reading the newspaper, drinking tea, and making plans to visit friends to do fun things together, we will be working on a hell-scape of a garden again – mostly because it doesn't cost anything to hack the jungle down. “Most people” is of course an invention of my own mind – a wonderland that everybody else lives in, while I grumble and look on bitterly at the much more better lives everybody else must have.
None of this is true by the way. I rarely think about anything while working on the garden, other than “die you f*cking nasty stinging nettle bastards”.
I'm writing this in “FocusWriter” on the old desktop computer, for what it's worth. I had something of a fit of temper late the other night when Windows wanted to do an update. It rebooted in the middle of me doing something, and took ten years to restart. I got my own back on it by installing Linux on it, and setting it to boot into Linux by default. I guess a good analogy would be shutting somebody you don't like in a cupboard while somebody you do like comes to visit.
Oh dear. I'm starting to sound like a maniac.
I have a confession to make. I nearly broke up with my bullet journal this week. It's all been a bit dramatic really. I started playing with a to-do list app on my phone, and then realised that I could use Evernote for 90% of what I use the bullet journal for. But then I kind of realised that I would need three apps and a paper notebook to replace what I use the bullet journal for. So I'm keeping at it. For now. It's funny really – when I started using a bullet journal I tried to make the pages look interesting, but as time has gone on I have become very boring indeed – each page is filled with lists of either things to do, or things that have been completed. No doodles, and very few diagrams.
My nose is still producing snot for England, if you're interested. And my chest is still sneaking up on me with coughing fits from time to time – but it IS getting better. My other half has been trying to talk me into taking paracetamol every four hours over the weekend to give my body a fighting chance. We'll see.
Isn't this post wonderfully random and disjointed. Perhaps it's the start of some thing new? Or the beginning of a slide into mediocrity – why have big thoughts about important things when you can have little thoughts about nothing in particular. Maybe I should change the tagline to reflect that.