The 90-day journal: Day 1

This is the first day of a three-month leave of absence from work. In this break, I’m supposed to write a book.

Ok, fine. So, I know that I’m on holiday now, but I’m not quite sure how to go about it. What does a holiday feel like? I’m not going anywhere, I’m faced with the prospect of sitting at home for the next three months. I’m supposed to write a book… but more about that later.

It’s nice that I can sleep till 6:30, but that’s only because I pulled a calf muscle while playing tennis on Tuesday and I still can’t walk properly, let alone play tennis.

Once up, I breakfasted and packed the kids off to school and then it was all I could do to not sit down at the computer and log on to my office network. I’m seriously hooked to work.

I forced myself to lie down and read a book instead, but by 10.30 I’d finished the book and there was nothing else to do but log on and check email. I had, of course, also committed to doing at least one little piece of work this morning, even though my leave technically started yesterday when I left office. Well, I mean, I can’t just stop cold turkey, can I? It does all sorts of horrible things to the central nervous system.

So I read office mail, chatted on whatsapp with a friend, spent quite a bit of time on Facebook, and finished the little bit of pending work, and by then it was just 1:30.

On work from home days, I struggle to keep my lunch break to 40-45 minutes. Today, because I had absolutely nothing else to do, I finished lunch in half an hour. How does that make sense?

On the other hand, it’s not entirely true that I have nothing else to do. There’s absolutely no veggies in the house. Last weekend I assured myself that I’d buy veggies mid-week. After all, I was winding down, heading to a longish break from work, I’d have plenty of time to shop for veggies. Right. So on Wednesday, I left work at 5.45 and got home at 6.45. No time for veggies. There were two carrots in the fridge. Good enough. There had been a packet of frozen peas, but we ate that on Tuesday.

Thursday I’m on holiday, I assured myself. I have all the time in the world to shop for veggies on Thursday.

Yeah, right.

It turns out, shopping for veggies is not something I do even when I have all the time in the world. I’d rather be on Facebook. Sheesh. Abominable.

So come Thursday evening, I’m going to be scrambling to buy and cook veg and get the kids to do their homework at the same time, which, so far, has been a recipe for disaster the last four hundred and eighty seven days. Of course, I’m home tomorrow, so tomorrow it will be better.

Yeah, right.

Tomorrow I’m sending my car for servicing. That would sound more feasible if I’d remembered to go out and get some petrol. The tank’s almost empty and the service centre is not exactly right next door. It’s one thing if I’m driving it to the service centre, but it’s not the same thing if some random guy is going to come and pick it up at 7:30 a.m., is it?

Hmm. This holiday is not exactly off to a flying start, methinks.

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