Last week I didn't do any paid work - normally there isn't a lot around this term and I was only lucky to get a couple of weeks when everyone was getting COVID. I was a bit down about it and then I remembered I was totally prepared not to work til after Easter. Still, I'm used to DOING. If I'm not earning, I'm in the garden, or doing other projects - every day there's something on my list to do. Tidying up. Mushrooms. Make labneh. Sort out the compost. I'm a project driven person and I enjoy it. Besides, what else would I write about if I didn't do projects so I had something to write about - jajajajaja, as they say in Espanol.

But last week, I had this revelation - what if I spent a day doing nothing? Like, literally chose to do NOTHING? Here I was in my van, looking at the view, having a cuppa and listening to Mark Lanegan's autobigraphy on Audible (I've since cancelled by subscription, because, Amazon) and I thought - what if I didn't go home?.

Like, wowsers. I fell asleep and all. At 11 o'clock in the morning. IN my van. What would people think? My garden would be overrun with weeds! My house a mess! The yoghurt unmade! The mushrooms growing all by themselves with no one to talk at them.

For the first time in a long, long, long time I felt something akin to 'relaxation'. I know right. Crazy. Who would have though an air sign like me could slow down enough to relax?

This was the closest I'd come to self care in a long time, for all my talk.

I want me some more of this.

I don't have to do anything. I can simply be.

How awesome is that? How blessed am I?!

Don't worry - I'm not completely crazy. I got home at 3 pm and ran round like a headless chook hanging out washing and doing the dishes so I could pretend I'd been busy. One has to keep up appearances, after all.

With Love,

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