Downtime

 I'm aware that the 50 days are going to be a bit of a rollercoaster. I'm also aware that because I have not that much to do, I will have some time on my hands.

So, what to do with this time?

Firstly, COVID knocked out my habit of going for a walk every day. COVID squeezed the stuffing out of me for a few months. That's over now. Time to get back the five kilometre walk a day. That or an hour of exercise a day. My energy is back. My lung capacity is back. There's no excuses. 

Secondly, time to get doing my writing.

Sitting in a team meeting today, notepad in hand some words came out. Some actual fiction words. It was a lovely feeling. 

So, while I'm in this hiatus space, it's time to write. Maybe a trip to IKEA is needed to get that swivel desk. Unfortunately, I can't write on my work laptop and send words to myself. Part of the company email rules. But this might work. 

So, what did I write?

Another jumping off point for the novel. 

 The unassembled boxes lie against the big windows which overlook the city. A roll of tape and a pair of scissors rest on the coffee table waiting for use. These items have been here a month, a constant reminder that the day is nearing when I'll have to stop procrastinating, but as with most thing cardboard or paper with an official use, I like to ignore them. 

Procrastinating is my superpower. It's a part of why I'm in this situation. Not that I'm a rarity. A middle-aged single woman. Spinster of this parish. Feme Sole. Spouseless. On the shelf. Mr Roget's master book is damning of single women of an age. I could add to this words like Crone. Bedlam. Witch. 

My generation is the last to know how to use a thesaurus. Modern generations don't know the joy of thumbing through a dog-earred Roget's. My copy has pride of place on my worktable. It was bought when I was doing English at university. It has that familiar, must smell of a well-loved tome. Shift-F7 doesn't have the same feel about it. "

Well, it's a start. 

The things that come out of your brain when you're in a pointless meeting. 

My other thing for my downtime - the other day I did a set of feet again. Feet? Reflexology. It was the first time in over a year I cracked open my massage table. I had an interesting client. We had things to work on (I'm wondering if the treatment helped). But there's something about getting out your bells, broom, black candles and cranking up Lou Reed's Transformer album to get some energy moving. 

In the words of The Pixies, 'I wanna be a singer like Lou Reed...." Lou Reed is great to work feet to. Nice and mellow. 

Anybody want a reflexology treatment in this downtime hiatus?

Today's song: