This Sunday and Monday were the first two days I had completely off from both of my jobs since early November. It was the first time in over a month where I wasn’t working somewhere or another that day–whether in an office, at home worryingly checking my e-mails or doing other work, or at a pub pouring pints and cleaning up after people. Except that one day I was sick, but even then I spent four hours dealing with work e-mails and little online tasks.
So yeah, I was really looking forward to these two days off. Although I did go out the night before this weekend of mine, I didn’t excessively pack my days off with things to do. I didn’t leave the house at all on Sunday, which has now, to me, become the paramount of luxury: to stay at home and ‘do nothing.’ Although I did do things; I did a load of laundry, I did a bit of mending, I baked cranberry scones and read a lot of articles on The Longread Tumblr. I did a lot of tweeting on my Twitter account. I wrote out a few Christmas cards. I made a crappy bowl of pasta for lunch/dinner. I wrote about my attempts at sourcing a Tofurky for Christmas dinner. I got hung up on by someone at the Whole Foods in Kensington.
All the while, I thought how wonderful it was to be able to indulge in such mundane things and not have to rush off anywhere. Time is such a luxurious commodity to have, at least for me right now, as for the past three weeks I’ve been working around 70 hours a week between my two jobs–a feat I didn’t think was possible until I actually started to do it. And Sunday, while I was cutting butter with a pastry blender for scones, I reflected on the past weeks where I haven’t really had this time to myself, outside of little hours here and there between jobs on public transport, or tucked away in a teahouse or pizzeria before the pub work began.
But yesterday and today gave me time to do things I’ve been meaning to do, and it’s been glorious. I was able to mend almost all the clothes I’ve draped over the chair in my room, which has become the default area for the clothes I need to fix. Awkward openings have been closed, buttons attached and tears stitched back together.
Today I went to the Postmodernism exhibit at the V&A, which I’ve been wanting to go to for some time, so it was nice to cross that off the mental list of ‘things to do’ in my head. It’s funny how this list can nag at me, as it’s a messy list, or perhaps a collection of different lists: things to do now, things to do when there’s time, things to do this week, things I want to do, things I have to do, things to do when you finally have enough money to do them, etc. I get easily moody when my things to do list becomes quite heavy, even when the things to do are rather inconsequential, like sewing a button on a shirt. So when I’m able to swipe some things off this list, I feel a lot better. I feel tamed, and less like a grouchy badger who’s grumbling at work because the laundry is piling up at home.
Writing in this blog is something else on the list. I often have thoughts in my head that I think I need to write about, but often these wind up lost before I have time to get to the computer. Ah well.
Tomorrow it’s back to work, but I’ll have three days off in a row for New Year’s, which is exciting. Even if I do little more than mend the rest of the clothes that need mending and bake at home, I’ll be quite pleased.