The clock ticked past midnight half an hour ago. I’m not entirely sure where Saturday went. After going out for breakfast this morning, I returned home, half-watched the football, put a couple of loads of clothes through the washing machine, recorded some more content for YouTube, tidied the kitchen up, answered the door who knows how many times for parcel deliveries, ate dinner, washed up again, and suddenly it’s half past midnight.
It feels like Saturday didn’t happen.
I haven’t been running since last Tuesday. Work kind of swamped the week - and that led to going to bed late to avoid each tomorrow, which resulted in not getting up early enough to run. It’s not rocket science, and I need to kick myself up the arse about it. I did stop on Friday lunchtime. I took my eldest daughter out for something quick to eat - and then came back to more emails, more meetings, more clothes, more washing up… more, more, more.
The grass is getting longer too. If it didn’t keep raining every other hour I might have half-a-chance of getting it cut.
I need a vacation.
We are going on holiday. In another month’s time.
I thought about booking the end of next week off to visit my parents for a couple of days - but then remembered the schools are still on holiday - which means the train fayres cost more than a space shuttle ticket at the moment. I have a ridiculous number of holiday days left, but no immediate opportunity to use any of them. It’s pretty relentless at the moment.
In the middle of all the noise, all the chores, and all the mayhem, I escape in plain sight for a minute now and again - catching up with friends on the internet - often in the same situation as me - snatching a minute here and there to reach out. Making the world a bit smaller, and a bit less exhausting.
The clock is ticking towards 1am. Perhaps if I go to bed now I’ll have half a chance of running in the morning before the world and it’s dog wakes up.
Wish me luck.