Back to work tomorrow so I made the most of my procrastination and arranged myself a little writing den. In fact, I was so keen to avoid ironing clothes and opening my work bag to see what tasks I'd left woefully undone, that I very nearly recreated my student bedroom.
I have a desk, a printer (optimistic, I'll grant you), a pouffe to park myself on and a poster; all tucked neatly between the spare bed and airing cupboard. And much like my student days, I've so far spent an hour on social networking sites trying to remember why I sat down in the first place.
But here I am.
I guess I'm thinking about resolution number 3. Write a Children's Book. To my shame I am out of practice. My writing muscle is as flaccid as, well most of my other muscles to be honest. Flaccid. What a horrible word. Reminds me of Mr Potato Head when he trades his plastic potato body with that of a tortilla; all sort of floppy and squelchy.
I haven't totally abandoned the world of children's literature however. Having a small child has given me the excuse to buy lots of picture books. It was his 3 rd birthday yesterday and I was grateful to receive some more picture books. My boyfriend made the blasphemous comment "we can throw some books out now we have new ones." What a fool.
But it did get me thinking. One day he'll turn 4, then 5. Perhaps I'll even keep him till 6, by which point he'll be wanting different books and I won't be able to justify spending the last of my wages on 32 pages of joy. Unless I can say I need them for my creative processes... studying the market... blatant attempts to pilfer ideas... What better reason to start a children's book of my own? Yes, we will have to buy more bookshelves and then find somewhere to put them. We'll get bunk beds, make a bit of floor space.
Another of my resolutions. Number 5, Get fit and toned. I should have added not stuffing my face with crap but I was trying to focus on positive life enhancers and not a list of naughties. I figure this should all happen at the same time, a symbiosis between the toning and not stuffing my face so much. Having had little experience in this field, I decided to wait till I was stuffed and could stuff no more. An indulgent two weeks of Christmas later I honestly thought I was there; ready to pour my metaphorical spirit of greed down the kitchen sink and enroll myself on the nearest 12 step program.
To test my new found steely reserve, I slowed to a mere dash through the kitchen of temptation, risking eye contact with a Ferrero Rocher. About to step over the threshold to the dining room, where a toned and healthy future waited, my perfidious arm shot out, grabbed two chocolate chip cupcakes and rammed them into my gob.