I am a tad nervous this morning. Huffy Puffy starts back today and the Trainer to the Reluctant just sent us a text message, telling us that she was “Looking forward to hearing about how we kept up our fitness over the holidays.”
I suspect the world’s shortest conversation will ensue.
Anyway, as I continue to worry about what the morning holds for me (thinking vomit bags and migraines) I thought I would revisit something I wrote a while back about my thoughts about February. And while I try to be positive and upbeat and eating green shit and cut back on the booze and silence my mind and be grateful and shit, I cannot deny that February Blues are a real thing.
Lately I have been thinking that I must have inadvertently got myself tangled up into a time machine type situation. Apparently it was just last month that I was spending long, hot days on the beach, free from the cares of the everyday and enjoying the joy that is January.
You know. That post-Christmas period where you can spend time congratulating yourself on getting through another year, on beating the beast that is the Festive Season, and look forward to Australia Day where there is a legitimate excuse to drink beer with lunch.
So you can imagine my horror when I discovered that it was February and I was already feeling… well, a bit over the whole thing.
It is almost like I was woken from the most wonderful dream by life throwing a cold bucket of guilt, commitments, obligations and other crap at me, and yelling…
“YOU HAVE THINGS TO DO! GET UP AND DO THEM. AND FOR GOD’S SAKE WOMAN, PUT THAT BEER DOWN.”
But maybe it is not so sudden?
Marketing messages came to me via the television and radio a few weeks back.
Phrases like “Back to School Sale Time” and “Order your Crisco Christmas Hamper today before it is too late and you lose your house because you cannot pay your mortgage…” sprang up before I had taken the festering, stinky Christmas Tree down, and the cycle started all over again.
But what can I give up to continue to follow my January Bliss?
Thankfully, or not depending how you view these things, I work for myself.
For me, I am thankful. I can work from home, therefore my day is only ever punctuated by my evil angel that sits on my shoulder, willing me to go and switch on Ellen.
This is of course, counteracted by my nerdy subconscious. The nerdy subconscious also compelled me to purchase a Family Organizer that sits idle on my desk, and has proved to be useless apart from being the worlds’ most expensive doodle pad.
Yes, I work hard. Not that I advocate being a workaholic. In fact, workaholics irritate me and make the rest of us look bad. I always hated that look I would get from the workaholic when I left work back in my cubicle jockey days, not to mention the emails he would send from the office at 11.15pm. Just to let you and everyone else in the “team “ know that he was still at work and you were not.
Stuff that! I also hate the way corporates have hi-jacked the word “team.”
But getting back to the feeling of the overwhelming waves that are crash tackling me, I have had a good think about all the facets in my life and what I can chop out.
Valentines Day will not exist this year. Just another “job” I don’t need to do. On the Job? Blow Job? Not going to happen because I plan on watching the documentary on ABC about happy and fulfilling relationships.
Birthdays, but with 24 people in my immediate family, the hope that we all turn into Jehovah’s Witnesses by tomorrow are slim. I don’t know how I am going to get around that recurring issue.
Domestic Due Diligence – aka housework. Earmarked for an even more of a diminished commitment in 2018.
Tax Return can wait another year. Ditto 2016 and before that.
Grocery Gathering – I am aiming to invent a series of recipes that can be made around the leftover random Christmas Hamper contents received from thoughtless acquaintances. Choc Coated Caramelized Cashew Risotto will feature heavily on our menu for weeks to come.
Child-rearing responsibilities – Mandatory and non negotiable. But known for occasionally fluctuating in enthusiasm.
Combing through my responsibilities, as well as the late onset possibility of a summer nit infestation (negative PHEW) I found it harder and harder to come up with “stuff” that I could push to the side and ignore, without impacting those around me.
That is until I absent mindedly scratched a mozzie bite on my shin and had a light bulb moment.
I am not going to shave my legs until next January. Because it will be then that I will have all the time in the world to do it.
Which team are you on?
February LET’S DO THIS BITCHES SQUAT WALK DRINK WATER MEDITATE BOK CHOY SEX AND COLOUR IN A PICTURE
February meh pass the coffee press snooze