innocent_lex

I know what life looks like when I ignore my to do list, my should do list, my must do list and my could do list. I don't have any idea what it looks like when there aren't at least a dozen things that I could point at and say 'I really should be doing that right now but I'm too tired / fed up / sore / grumpy / can't be arsed'. Are there adults out there who can answer that question?

Am taking the night off from stuff that I should be doing and only doing the stuff that has to get done. That's something, I think.

ETA: No, LJ spellcheck, "can't be parsed" really isn't what I'm trying to say. Thanks awfully for the suggestion, though.

Work today: ticky. Painting today: ticky. Feeding birds today: ticky. Dealing with weekly rubbish and recycling collections: ticky. Dinner: no ticky. That must be why I'm so hungry! At least I'll hopefully sleep well tonight after a late meal and a nice warm bath.

Also, have just checked my supplies to see if I have the perfect paintbrush for painting the side of the banisters next to the wall tomorrow evening. I do. Apparently the perfect paintbrush was made by the Early Learning Centre. It's amazing what you can find in a house with no kids.

I've just spent a couple of hours trying to watch telly and do net things without my glasses (left them upstairs and couldn't be bothered to go and fetch them). What did I learn? The world is fuzzy without my glasses and no amount of rapid blinking or rubbing my eyes will fix that. Damnit, the only real problem I used to have trying to read without my glasses was headaches. Now? Mucho blurriness. Piddle.

Also? I gave in and pre-ordered the Flashpoint series 1 DVDs - a month to wait. I really, really like this show. Really. Since I'm working from home this week the money I'm saving on trains is going on funzies instead - a good trade, no?

Wow, that's frustrating.

Again. At least the garden's happy and it's nowhere near as hot as it was last week.

And it's nearly the weekend. And I nearly have my new telly. And... well, that's enough really.

My car is nine years old. It has been making a bad noise for a while, and it sounded like an expensive bad noise. Not that it wasn't about time, considering the age, but still not something I was looking forward to hearing about when I took it in to the garage for its service and MOT today. Turns out it wasn't an expensive bad noise, only sixty quid. This is the cheapest annual service I've had for a while, in fact.

Have been out to lunch today, spent quite a bit of the day with my parents. Now I'm back, I've run all my backups on the computer, and it's time to sit and write. I hear words calling me.

Really knackered. Truly. And things hurt that I don't need hurting, thanks very much. I want a life, and I want someone else to organise it for me so I don't have to. 

Oh, and... I hate the tube. Really. Am on the verge of writing a scathing letter to the mayor about how he needs to fix what his predecessor fucked up. I'll do that when I'm actually awake.

Did I mention the knackered thing?

So, have spent a few hours sorting out my bedroom, tidying, sorting through clothes and deciding what goes and what stays (and I'm being almost ruthless this time around), tidying, hoovering, cleaning, and putting away the clean clothes that were just mounting up and up and up. I need to do some ironing but generally my bedroom is sorted.

Then I came downstairs.

I think someone blew a hurricane through my lounge while I was sorting out my bedroom. I'm positive it didn't look quite this much of a disaster area before I went upstairs. *sigh* Still, at least it means my bedroom must be much better as the contrast between upstairs and downstairs really hit me. Onwards, then. Get a lot of this done, put empty boxes in the garage, put books back on shelves, DVDs back on other shelves, magazines in racks, and on and on. Then, if I'm still awake, it'll be dinner and writing. Possibly dinner and a movie, but I might save that for tomorrow after work (when I'm really knackered).

If all you knew of the houses in this country you had learned from homes magazines, you'd think everyone had masses of space and no stuff. I do wonder at times if it's true all these people have no stuff or if they hired some massive storage shed while the photo shoot was happening. Or perhaps they just moved their stuff from room to room as needed. Or... everyone in the country is in fact tidy and organised and I'm just not. Hmmm.

Also, those dinky little pamphlets they include every so often that are always called something like 'the ultimate guide to storage' make the assumption that people have massive amounts of space for this wondrous storage. Apparently the most important items you should get include:
- a stylish room divider that's seven feet tall and six feet wide onto which you can artfully put a couple of vases, the odd antique book, and perhaps a photo of Auntie Maud
- a stylish church bench with coat hooks above it and cunningly disguised pull out drawer to hold your wellies, and which should only take up half the space in your twelve foot wide hallway
- a delightful desk with charming cubbies where you can file the two or three letters you get each week from Auntie Maud and your publisher, and which costs £1200
- a lovely pull-out cupboard which can hold a couple of loo rolls and new soap for those bathrooms where there isn't space to put a loo roll holder on the wall (but there's somehow room for a cupboard...)

Of course, it's possible I do have enough space for some of these things, and once I've dug through the stuff that's still all over the house even after I filled an entire skip up in November I might rediscover that space.

Am I getting old, or is life just in a pattern by now that isn't ever going to change? I dropped off some presents with a friend today, then headed into the throng of the Saturday before Christmas at the shops. I know it sounds crazy, but I need a kettle as mine is leaking and I don't want to kill myself for the sake of waiting for the sales, and the kettle I wanted wasn't on sale at any of the shops I'd been to previously. So, once more into the breach, and all that. What was weird was there was no traffic in town, I found a parking space easily, I wasn't mown down by hoards of crazy shoppers, and I got what I wanted plus a few extra presents just because I could. And then I came home, made dinner, and watched a soppy romantic Christmas film that made me cry. Next it's wrapping up more pressies, writing a card or six, and then a long bath with bubbles, candles and a good book. My traditions are well and truly entrenched by now.

p.s. Blair officially becoming religious is not bloody news! It's bad enough people think football scores are news. When did we sink this low?