I missed Friday. You may have noticed. You know why I missed Friday? Because I was busy. I had copywriting jobs and scriptwriting jobs and family in town and something had to be sacrificed.
It’s great that I have work, don’t get me wrong. If all goes well, it’s work that will allow me to live here in Amsterdam. But I can’t help feeling just a tiny bit resentful of all that time it steals away.
‘Welcome to the real world,’ my sister would say. She says it often.
But she exaggerates. This is hardly the real world. I’m still a lot freer than most. Even if I happen to work a 40-hour week, I’ll do most of it lying on a bed. I can work like a beast and be up against the clock but it’s a rare moment indeed when I’m not free enough, should I so desire, to knock one out or burn one up. You feel me? I mean, usually I don’t, but knowing that I can, should I choose to, fills me with so much joy that occasionally I will.
Work is a means to an end, and actually rather enjoyable most of the time, but occasionally, things get lost.
C’est la guerre.
My sisters came over for a couple of days. The weather was dull but our spirits were high and there was a lot more eating than I’m used to. I ate a lot of very bad, very enjoyable things.
For the next two weeks I shall punish myself.
The pictures are from the Bodyworlds exhibition, but I’m guessing you already knew that.
Only two stats this week. Here they are:
percentage of things I said I’d wanted to achieve by Friday achieved :: zero
days to find somewhere to live :: 15