Ever since the move, things have been pretty busy, to say the least. Between all the unpacking, resolving of the old apartment, clearing out my storage unit, and doing stuff in the new place like painting and organizing, and on top of it all, planning and preparing for mythical gf’s birthday party, I began to make a joke about how I was going to work so I could relax. While at work, I could sit down, not be doing physical activities (except for going to the gym) and actually be somewhat dormant. In my downtime, I could actually write a little bit.
But then work got busy, and I didn’t have time to write, and the workload at home didn’t relent, so I couldn’t really find time to write there either.
Fortunately, the party has come and gone, very nicely I might add, and suddenly the rush and the urgency in which things needed to be done, came to a screeching halt. Whereas I’ve been working my ass off for the last three weeks and change, suddenly I don’t have to have my foot lead-footing the gas anymore, and I’ve hit points where I’m actually hitting walls of progression where I can’t actually accomplish tasks without requisite materials or conditions.
Needless to say, I have time again, and frankly I don’t know what to do with it all of a sudden. My televisions and computers haven’t really been properly set up yet, both of which are also relying on requisite hardware/conditions in order to do so, so I can’t just do what I’d been doing in the past, and marathon some show to pass the time. I can’t really do that many more chores or tasks just yet, because some require more time than I have after a day of work, and are better suited for weekends.
So last night, I did something that I haven’t done in what feels like ages; I retired pretty early, crawled into bed, read a book for a little while, and then went to sleep at a sensible time.
Continue reading “Writing because I suddenly have nothing else to do”
