Now the kids are back at school, I am going to nail the to-do list which has grown like the weeds in my garden over lockdown.
In fact, top of that list – those weeds. Then, everything else.
That’s what I told myself.
I’m not talking household chores so much – they’re just something that have to be done if you want to eat off clean plates and not send the children out in muddy clothes.
More the big things that might actually make a difference to your life.
Like the decade’s worth of pictures stored on some blinking cloud that have never been printed. All those memories hovering somewhere when they should be on the fireplace in pretty frames, showing the chapters of our lives.
Like sending that email that’s been hovering for so long, that sometimes springs into my mind at 3am and makes sleep impossible.
In short, all the things stored in the furthest away cupboards in my head that niggle and scratch away and give me – to use a modern phrase – “the fear”.
Yes, now with time to do all those things, life will be carefree.
Then I wave the boys off and what actually happens is I go home, make my fourth cup of coffee of the morning – even though I know it will send me over the jingly-jangly edge.
I gear up to go through all those photos but pass a table that needs dusted. And a kitchen that needs cleaned. And… oooh, let’s just see what the news headlines are on Sky.
And then it’s 10.45am and I may as well take a peek to see a minute of a Homes Under The Hammer episode. Just a minute – to see if we’ve run out of new episodes (I’ve still not filmed since March). But then, I must see what happened to the two-bed terrace in Stoke with carpets that smelled of cat wee…
I look around and feel sorry for the plants. They need watered.
I hear a ping and realise the parents’ WhatsApp has 43 messages about one pupil’s missing left PE sock.
I consider a short run – and very occasionally I have one.
I realise it’s lunchtime and am so hungry I eat all the wrong things and feel guilty.
Then I wonder how the boys are getting on and kind of miss them – even though I dreamed of having free time for five months.
Just before I get started on the photos and weeds, I fold clean clothes (previously, a last resort for use of time) and feel guilty – again – for the stack of ironing.
And then, somehow it’s time to pick the boys up. A whole day has gone and nothing on that meaningful list has been done. The plants look happy though.
Am I alone? Perhaps you find yourself in a similar state of limbo. Or if you are ticking everything off your list, any tips gratefully received.
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