I woke up Saturday morning with excitement, thinking we were going up to the High Country in Victoria. I have one of those brains that's immediately switched on upon waking, and never wake up slowly. Saturday was a 4 am kinda deal, and I usually spend a few hours trying to meditate or just use the time to listen to the birds and think before I hear Jamie get up and put the kettle on.

'I don't think it's a good idea to go', he started. That's typical of him - he'll get excited about doing things then change his mind. Two reasons for not going - it was a four hour drive, and there was no snow, which is why we wanted to go up in the first place. It's unseasonably warm - a mate had been checking the cams all week and the situation was dire.

Instead, we'd spend the entire weekend gardening and doing Land Rover stuff - well, he would anyway, having pulled out the gearbox, the roamer drive and all the other bits he needed to to get the Series 3 ship shape for our travels. It's got to be on a ship by November so there is a lot to do, including turning her into a pop top.

Lucky I had my favourite peanut butter to sustain me. Seriously this stuff is the bomb - brazil nuts, cashew, almond, cacao, date powder, vanilla. I eat it with a spoon.

We did have a nice hour in the sunshine, eating shitake mushroom crisps and drinking soda water (well, Jamie had a beer, but I'm off drinking, for good I reckon.)

Waking up on Sunday, I felt motivated - the garden was beginning to look amazing and I had heaps of plans for the day to get more done. I moved the worm farm closer to the compost bay, and we rebuilt an entire garden area and got some mulch. More on that later in the week. I made muffins and ate far too many, balancing it out with a lot of lentil dal. Two chooks got et by foxes because they weren't locked up because the silly buggers didn't come back when I called them. My muscles started to ache. By midday, I was already thinking about how nice a bath was going to be.

And the whole while I'm thinking about all the stuff that needed to be done before we go - including booking flights, and a whole lot of DIY to make the house rent-outable. The garden stuff is easy in comparision.

So going to sleep on a Sunday night meant a long session laying in the dark breathing and thinking. When you meditate, you're meant to notice thoughts and label them but not react and come back to the breath. I know I'm anxious when I find myself running off with a thought.

Waking up Monday morning - this morning, as I write this, I feel a crushing sense of depression. It happens. It sits in my chest like a hungry hormonal teenager or a goth being forced to see Barbie (although I hear that's a thing). At least I know what it is - I have too much to do, and am feeling overwhelmed. I'd rather be surfing, but I'm at work trying to earn some money that I fear we don't have enough of, and I'm trying not to say 'no' to everything Jamie asks for, because we can't afford it, and every hundred bucks we spend could be another day in Europe.

Let's see how I wake up tomorrow.