Not during the week, obviously. During the week I am non-stop. On Mondays I wash-up, clean the kitchen and either clean the bathroom and vacuum; or dust and change the bedsheets. Tuesdays I do five-a-side football. And Thursdays I do the washing up, a good tidy for the weekend and usually other bits of domestic goddery. This leaves Wednesday. Or at least one day of the week.
Usually it is Wednesday, but I am flexible. Just because I have a routine it doesn't mean that it can't change. But on the day of the week that I have no plans I do other things. Once a month I do charity work on a night. Sometimes I have to go on dates (see tomorrow's post). Or there is ironing to be done. Or gardening during summer, DIY during winter. Or a particular job that needs doing. Or some of my art. Or I might get to play the piano. Or work intrudes into my private life. Or I have to pack for a weekend away. Or some sort of emergency crops up. Or someone invites me to the pub. There could be anything which occupies The Fourth Night.
Fridays I don't plan anything. If I am even at home, I will either be out with friends, or I will be having a night in, chilling by myself (almost certainly by myself) watching a film or three until I convince myself to go to bed.
Packing all my jobs into the four-nights ensures that my weekends are free of routine. This is essential. If routine were to be introduced into weekends, routine would get thrown into disarray on so many occasions because of trips away. Or, most probably, a family occasion. On the weekends when I am not away or otherwise engaged, they are assigned to a project. A garden project during summer, a DIY project during the winter (again). Or I will be catching up on some culture - the local contemporary art museum has rotating installments or there are a billion and one places I can walk to take photos of unknown or underacknowledged areas of the city.
From winter through to Easter I undertook quite a substantial project. The bathroom project. The bathroom has been a huge project (see another blog post at some stage) but basically for the last few years I have spent the time with a bath, sink and toilet - no proper airing cuboard sealing the bath from the immersion tank; and there has been a huge empty space next to the toilet where the shower was to go. And the shower was bought, downstairs in the work room. All I needed was to be able to afford the timber for the cupboard and woodwork; the tiles for the walls; and generally construction materials. Anyhow, after a few months of saving up after the last projects - the front and back doors - I was able to afford all these various bits (it is surprising how much - after the main articles such as tiles - the periferal items add up to) and so it was all guns blazing on the project.
I set myself deadlines. I had to have the shower fully installed and working by the weekend when my friend was coming up from London. Then I had some time off in the run up to Easter and decided the bathroom had to achieve 'substantial completion' by then - all the tiling done and practical everything sorted aside from a few minor projects.
Having sorted that though, I allowed myself a few weekends off. The first weekend was a perfectly legitimate reward for all the hard work, proper relaxation. Then I was away. Then the next weekend I rewarded myself again. Then the next weekend I was wallowing in misery having made myself single again. The following weekend I spent having sex both nights and therefore being too tired to do anything. And so it has continued - for one reason or another I have allowed myself to stay in bed for hours. Last weekend for example I stayed in bed because it was raining, and therefore I could not do any gardening.
It has gotten so bad that this weekend I was rather chuffed with myself for getting up at 1pm and spending the majority of the afternoon on my new garden project - Centrepoint. Woo. 1pm. Fantastic. One of the reasons for this is that my 'relaxing' Friday ended with me pottering off to bed at around 5am after watching my 3 films whilst undertaking various tidying tasks (including ironing and trying to hem some trousers; only giving up when I realised that I couldn't see what I was doing because of the wine and finding out the next morning that I had hemmed the wrong side of the trousers). I was rather pleased with all the various little jobs that I managed to get sorted out, however that did mean that 1pm was therefore a self-satisfying time to get up the next day. Despite the fact that half the day had gone.
Sunday was the worst. Sunday I played Just One More with the radio. Just One More is usually a game that is played in the pub with my friends. Usually they play it with me because I am the first to try to leave. Then we start on with Just One More and I end up staggering out of the pub (with my bicycle) at a silly time in the morning. But Just One More with the radio involves staying in bed for just one more programme. When the programme ends I honestly intend to get up. But then they give you a tease, a trailer for what is happening next. And the next thing you know it is 3pm and there is no point starting on a project because you have to start getting ready for 11-a-side training at 4pm.
Quite why these weekends have started becoming so unproductive is a mystery, but it needs to stop, and very very soon. But maybe first there should be Just One More...
From winter through to Easter I undertook quite a substantial project. The bathroom project. The bathroom has been a huge project (see another blog post at some stage) but basically for the last few years I have spent the time with a bath, sink and toilet - no proper airing cuboard sealing the bath from the immersion tank; and there has been a huge empty space next to the toilet where the shower was to go. And the shower was bought, downstairs in the work room. All I needed was to be able to afford the timber for the cupboard and woodwork; the tiles for the walls; and generally construction materials. Anyhow, after a few months of saving up after the last projects - the front and back doors - I was able to afford all these various bits (it is surprising how much - after the main articles such as tiles - the periferal items add up to) and so it was all guns blazing on the project.
I set myself deadlines. I had to have the shower fully installed and working by the weekend when my friend was coming up from London. Then I had some time off in the run up to Easter and decided the bathroom had to achieve 'substantial completion' by then - all the tiling done and practical everything sorted aside from a few minor projects.
Having sorted that though, I allowed myself a few weekends off. The first weekend was a perfectly legitimate reward for all the hard work, proper relaxation. Then I was away. Then the next weekend I rewarded myself again. Then the next weekend I was wallowing in misery having made myself single again. The following weekend I spent having sex both nights and therefore being too tired to do anything. And so it has continued - for one reason or another I have allowed myself to stay in bed for hours. Last weekend for example I stayed in bed because it was raining, and therefore I could not do any gardening.
It has gotten so bad that this weekend I was rather chuffed with myself for getting up at 1pm and spending the majority of the afternoon on my new garden project - Centrepoint. Woo. 1pm. Fantastic. One of the reasons for this is that my 'relaxing' Friday ended with me pottering off to bed at around 5am after watching my 3 films whilst undertaking various tidying tasks (including ironing and trying to hem some trousers; only giving up when I realised that I couldn't see what I was doing because of the wine and finding out the next morning that I had hemmed the wrong side of the trousers). I was rather pleased with all the various little jobs that I managed to get sorted out, however that did mean that 1pm was therefore a self-satisfying time to get up the next day. Despite the fact that half the day had gone.
Sunday was the worst. Sunday I played Just One More with the radio. Just One More is usually a game that is played in the pub with my friends. Usually they play it with me because I am the first to try to leave. Then we start on with Just One More and I end up staggering out of the pub (with my bicycle) at a silly time in the morning. But Just One More with the radio involves staying in bed for just one more programme. When the programme ends I honestly intend to get up. But then they give you a tease, a trailer for what is happening next. And the next thing you know it is 3pm and there is no point starting on a project because you have to start getting ready for 11-a-side training at 4pm.
Quite why these weekends have started becoming so unproductive is a mystery, but it needs to stop, and very very soon. But maybe first there should be Just One More...
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