Never On A Sunday

22 Feb

Nowadays it is exceptionally rare for me to have a Sunday off. Particularly as Sundays are the only day I’m actually contracted to work. Ahem. But I’ve got two in a row and I don’t know what to do with myself.

Actually, that’s not entirely true.

Next week it’ll be 27 Hour Show recovery and wandering round the This Comedian photography exhibition with Aislinn, which is going to be very, very exciting. (I’d planned to go anyway, but a whole weekend with comedy and one of my best friends is an absolutely delightful prospect.)

Today wasn’t totally wasted either. Any thought of leaving the house was immediately banished thanks to the horrendous weather, so I had a lovely long lie in (punctuated by me waking up when my alarm went off, checking an hour later that work definitely hadn’t rung asking me to come in, and then finally getting up around midday), followed by a lazy afternoon of catching up with TV shows I’d missed this week, and an evening of getting things done, like a proper grown up person would. Y’know the kind of stuff I mean – changing the bed sheets, cramming all my dirty washing into the laundry basket, taking the 23 plastic bottles scattered across my room out to the recycling bin clad only in a t-shirt, slippers and dressing gown and regretting that decision immediately as soon as a gust of wind caught me very much by surprise*.

YOU KNOW, THE KIND OF THINGS EVERYBODY DOES.

And now I have three days of panicked organising before my trip away, when I have loads of things I need to do and sort out, but definitely far too little time to actually manage.

*I’m starting to think that I accidentally flash people much more often than everyone else. It’s actually pretty worrying, to be honest.

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