The Day of Rest

So the fear has set in. I’ve got two pay-checks left until I am unemployed. The confidence and yeehah attitude that seemed so freeing and empowering back in March is suddenly coming apart at the seams. I still think I did the right thing. I still have no regrets but I can’t deny that the reality, no scratch that, the ENORMITY of what I have done is hammering home. Like a brain worm, the thoughts of doubt are slowly burrowing deeper and deeper into my grey matter, and I woke up this morning and it hit me: well, if I’m going to make this work, I had better get started.

But where to start? It’s a huge task to wake up one morning and decide that you must use the day to sort out your life. Admittedly, there are some bits in place already…some pretty great bits, but it all needs funding somehow and how on earth am I going to make that happen?

Well, obviously, this was a task too big for me to manage in one sitting and especially first thing in the morning before I had even properly woken up, so I decided to finish my book first. I only had 15 pages or so left, so it wasn’t exactly procrastination, but looking back now, it was certainly a delaying tactic. Oh, ok, it was procrastination.

After finishing the book, and reading the acknowledgements that the author writes, and then reading about her, and then feeling unsatisfied with the miniscule paragraph of information regarding her I went to the internet and did a bit more scouring. When that was done, I found the first two chapters of the next book and thought it would be remiss of me not to read those as well. And then…dammit, that was another hour that had slipped through my greasy fingers and I’ve still got my life to sort out.

Feeling a little more motivated now, I was determined to get on with this task of all proportions…but I didn’t want to do it dirty! This was an important task, one that required respect and cleanliness and I needed a bath. That wasn’t procrastination, surely? Wasn’t that just good personal hygiene? I may have been the only one in the house all day today with no plans to leave but that was no excuse for slovenly living habits. And, while I was at it, I may as well put a bit of bubble bath in and bring in the laptop to catch up on a bit of 24. I mean, really, it’s been so long since I’ve had the time or opportunity to indulge in a bath that, you know, I deserve it.

An hour later, I was starting to feel ready to tackle my life free-fall. After I’d dried my hair of course. And plucked my eyebrows. And done my nails. And fake tanned a bit. By now it’s 3pm and I’m starting to think that maybe Sunday isn’t the best day for this task after all. I mean, who works on a Sunday? Even the big man himself takes that day off…he used Monday to Saturday to create his world and by God, if it’s good enough for him, then it’s good enough for me too. In fact, by this time, I’ve convinced myself it would be nothing short of blasphemy for me to continue on my “selfish” life-managing mission on a Sunday. What had I been thinking?

I managed to hush the screaming voice of conscience that lives in my chest (you know in that really tight, twisted bit?) by drowning them out with a bit more 24. And isn’t it funny how quickly you can lose 4 hours to that? If I hear the sentence “Jack’s gone dark” one more time today, I may actually have to do something constructive with my life. Oh, wait, wasn’t that the problem in the beginning?

And now it’s 9.10pm and I’m still no further to figuring it out. Instead of writing letters and updating CVs and all that jazz, I’m indulging in the ultimate irony. I’m wasting more time avoiding what I should be doing, by writing this blog telling you what I’m doing to waste time avoiding doing what I should be doing. My life is officially in freefall. Erm, can anyone tell me where the eject button is please?