I have spent this weekend sitting on my sofa, reading Chuck Palahniuk's Haunted and eating cheesecake. Feeling shattered from days and weekends of doing, being and going I simply needed to sit and switch off. And that is what I did.
I read the New Yorker with my cereals. I had coffee and toast for lunch and Early Grey tea and cheesecake for...well for afternoon loveliness. I did not worry about going out the house, about cleaning, about being productive or useful. I simply indulged.
Around 3pm today, Sunday, I thought I would sit and start to write a post I have been meaning to get some words down about for a while, and I found that my relaxing had worked so well that my brain simply refused. I tried doing a little research, a little typing, but still my brain said 'no'.
I don't blame my brain, but I said to it, I have to write a blog post, I made a solemn promise to myself to blog at least once a week.
'Tough,' said my brain.
Fair enough, I thought, can't really argue with that.