Lazy Days are Here to Stay

Yesterday I did nothing productive whatsoever. It was glorious.

I got up early, made myself some eggs and lounged around watching terrible Saturday morning television in my pyjamas. Then I showered and went for a walk in the nearby park. Not for exercise, either. I walked at a snail's pace, taking in the smell of hyacinth and occasionally stopping to let kids pass on their bikes. I took my shoes off and sat on the grass, people watching and thinking about what I need to get done this week. The walk was followed by more mindless television, series one DVD of he Mighty Boosh - a show none of my friends understand or think is funny but which I have been known to laugh at so hard that I have shot coffee out my nose - and laying on the settee with my eyes closed listening to Sarah Vaughn. I left my dishes in the sink for hours, ate nothing but snack food, and uttered no words other than the occasional singing along to 'September Song.' I declined invitations to a BBQ and trip to the cinema and instead turned off my phone and barred myself from the computer. I drew the curtains before it was dark and sat in candlelight watching the visually stunning, weak plotted film Marie Antoinette. I shouted at the screen TV when my favourite singer got bad comments from the judges of I'd Do Anything. I ate Jaffa Cakes and a whole bar of Green and Blacks dark chocolate with orange and spices. It was an entire day of things I have not felt I could do since we moved in with Max's parents six months ago, and it was heavenly.

It's funny how we can all get so caught up in our days and lives being full and productive. We must not indulge lethargy, must always keep moving forward. I remember when I was in school I joined every club and sport that was on offer, petrified of missing out or wasting any of my time. In college I continued to join things, do things. I volunteered and worked full time while studying and doing internships. After college I got a 9-5 job and felt the need to utilise every spare moment by taking on two more jobs, nights and weekends as a bartender. Since moving to Ireland, weekends and days off are allocated carefully - one day for socialising and catching up on friend commitments, one day for house work and errands. Living with Max's family it became even more necessary to run around like a headless chicken, making certain I did not appear to be 'doing nothing.' Life is too short to waste precious time, right?

Wrong.

Life is too short not to waste time. Surely a day of sitting around and pampering yourself is a day well spent. Isn't a well rested person is a happier, healthier, kinder and more productive person? A person far better equipped to contribute the the lives and world around her? I have spent my whole life running forward toward some unknown goalpost - every benchmark I have reached quickly set to the side as I raced to the next one. Time to slow down, I say. Time to smell the hyacinth, laugh at two men talking absolute rubbish on the television, to drown out the beautiful voices of jazz legends with my out-of-tune warbling. After all this time I have somehow managed to convince myself that the world will not collapse around me if I sleep every once in a while. Next stop - a four day working week!