I took the day off yesterday because I couldn’t face up to work. There’s been plenty of times I didn’t fancy work, but yesterday was purely physical.
As has been a common occurrence I got up in the morning, began my regular ablutions, then went back to bed to lay down. Every other time I’ve got up again 20 minutes later and, marginally less weary, have got myself ready and headed off to work – albeit later than usual. Yesterday I went back to bed and didn’t get up until nearly 10 am.
I think I’m pretty close to being run-down, but I’m getting old, too. I’ve worked pretty solidly for the last two years, with only a couple of breaks in that – I have about seven weeks of leave accrued. Lately, even when I have taken days off, I’ve still been doing work in my own time, including after work and on weekends.
I need a really good holiday but I’ve been reluctant to commit to anything because I’ve got no money, because I’ve had no-one to look after Rigby even if I did manage to go away somewhere, and because I wanted to keep the leave up my sleeve just in case I needed to cash it out.
Realistically, even though I feel refreshed after doing nothing yesterday, this is only going to continue and get worse until I get away from it all. I need to freshen up properly.
Part of the problem is that I’m always on. Work is demanding, and then comes the weekend. Fine, except I never have a lazy weekend. I do whatever I need to do and then I sit down and write, Saturday and Sunday, and creative writing – let me tell you – uses a lot of brain wattage.
I’m very disciplined. Sometimes I don’t want to do it but I always do. The only time I don’t do it is when I’m away for some reason, which is fuck-all. And that’s the thing, if I’m tired I reckon most of it is mental tiredness because I so rarely let my mind simply idle.
Shit happens and it’s easily fixed. At the back of my mind, I plan to take a week off maybe at the end of March and go up to a mates place in Mullumbimby. He’s been at me for a while to get up there and has a granny flat in his backyard I can stay in. It’s right next door to Byron Bay and there’s no more chilled place in Oz (and potentially on the globe) than there. I’ll still do my writing, but a change of scene makes a world of difference in my experience, and spending a few hours each day by the pool or cruising around Byron won’t hurt either.
I’m hoping to get a few things sorted before then, but will update on that later.