I’ve been sat here for an hour, just daydreaming and clicking and thinking.
There are so many things I could or should be doing, and yet I’m sat in a sunbeam, watching the minutes fall by, listening to the tick-tock-tick of my trusty old cheap clock which sits on my desk, its hollow sound like the shadow of a heartbeat.
An hour of procrastination…
I could be cleaning the kitchen. Asiz spilt cornflakes all over one of the sideboards the other day and hasn’t cleaned them up properly. They sit here and there, and get on the floor and dissolve crunchily under your toes while you reach for sauces or cheerios. I will clean them up eventually, disgruntled as ever that I have to tidy up someone elses mess (unless its Matthew, friends, or family, funnily enough. Maybe I have to love you to tidy up after you?).
I could be working on my reports. I can barely fathom that this year is drawing to a close. I remember last June, being oh-so-nervous as I stood up in front of the parents to make my speech…that same event for this year is in a month.
I could call a friend and catch up, but, then, I’ve never been the best at the phone. There are a tiny handful of people who I can call and my horror of the medium doesn’t kick in. More likely once the thought witching hour has passed I’ll write some letters – I owe letters to so many folk at the moment, and I want to send a baby card to a blogger whose had a beautiful baby girl this week.
I could/should be ironing. That, however, is a permanent fixture in my life. Wherever I am, there is likely to be some ironing needing doing. Unlike other chores, like cooking, or cleaning the bathroom, or the dishes, where you get that lovely feeling of accomplishment, of being done, the ironing is cyclical, not linear. It never seems to end….
I could laze on the bed and read some more of my book (Digging to America), but I want to save that treat for bedtime.
I could start the listing and planning and sorting ahead of our move….but in the glorious sunshine and solo, it’s not feeling like a plan.
I could mark last weeks books, and this I know will get done (nothing like a class of expectant 8-to-9-year-old boys to motivate you!). After supper, or perhaps before, I’ll pop on Classic fm, or maybe throw on a great DVD (His Girl Friday, maybe, or When Harry Met Sally) and whizz through this, and shore up my lesson plans for the week also.
So instead, I wrote this blog post. And now I’m going to mark. Then fish and chips for supper, followed by letters, a quick tidy round, and a book. As for that ironing? Manana, maybe?