Follow one crying eye on


My laptop tells me that ‘unproductivity’ is not a word, so that pretty much sums up today.  Not actually a day? An un-day? Well…sort of.

I had the best of intentions this morning, but sadly no properly formulated plans. A whole empty day in the calendar, with the house to myself and time aplenty to write that next blog-entry, or go for a long walk somewhere. After a couple of rather manic weeks of socialising and fun, this was surely exactly what was required.

Inevitably, it began with a headache and some resulting grumpiness. But once I had dealt with that – eschewing the medication was truly not an option this time, no arguments, take the pill – and read a fair proportion of the Saturday Times without guilt of keeping it from Mr J, I was left feeling a little meh (now, my laptop accepts meh as a word – ridiculous?). And that meh-ness (ok, it’s not so happy with that) persisted through my second cup of coffee, a desultory hour weeding the garden (for about the sixth time in as many days, and it seems to make no difference), a predictably frugal lunch and a couple of hours faffing around on my phone/laptop achieving nothing whatsoever. 

By 4pm I was so annoyed with myself and the world, that I randomly opened a dust-covered semi-collapsed folder which I spotted under the piano stool while hopelessly shuffling round the house. I had no doubt stashed it there when tidying the house for a visitor a couple of weeks ago. For no apparent reason I decided that now was the time to get rid of the contents: old bank statements, papers relating to a voluntary office I held for nineteen years until 2009 (yes, fully 12 years ago now – why the hell is it still here at all?) and other tat which had neither monetary nor emotional value. All of it completely pointless and of no use to anyone. I diligently shredded a few bits which almost certainly would not have posed a security risk (you can’t be too careful), and sorted the rest into recycling and rubbish. All of this in the middle of the living room floor because that is where I’d started. 

Feeling slightly better, having at least achieved one useful thing today to report to Mr J on his return, I continued my house-wandering and found myself upstairs in my bedroom, where I spotted two dusty piles of junk in a corner. I have been readily ignoring these piles and carelessly hoovering around them for years now, but suddenly I was sorting them out, throwing bits in the recycling, smiling at other long-forgotten maps and conference/theatre programmes. Although I couldn’t throw all of this away, I managed to cull quite a large proportion, relocate a few choice items in more appropriate places and thus reduce the two piles to just one, which is now neater and less dusty than before.

So, perhaps this has redeemed the day sufficiently for me to drag myself out for a shorter than anticipated walk on which I can hold my head a little higher. Not yet a complete waste of a day after all.

And – wow – it got a blog post out of me too!

Now for that killer Tweet I’ve been meaning to write before I go. Anything could happen now on this not-so-unproductive day.

Follow one crying eye on