If you think I’m going to waste this weekend lying around doing nothing then you are absolutely correct.
Doing nothing is something I positively dream of since stuff always seems to find me. Stuff then pokes away at my conscience until I discover that, yet again, my time has been filled. It isn’t easy resisting demands on your time and energy. Like most women I’m hopeless at saying no. As a result I’m often over-stretched and frazzled by things which are very important to other people. But not always so important to me.
Whether it’s helping Husband in the garden, or supporting the latest good cause at a fund-raising coffee morning in town, or planning and hosting a supper party, weekends spent pleasing myself are, like postmen in long pants, incredibly rare.
So, my half-way through the year resolution is to grab some precious time back for myself. And if someone should cheerily enquire, “What have you got on this weekend?” I will happily ‘fess up to the unvarnished truth, “I’ve got nothing planned this weekend. And it’s going to be great.”
I’ve never been troubled by fomo (fear of missing out) even before the term was invented. The only thing I fear missing out on nowadays is my beauty sleep. The wonders that seven hours of uninterrupted shut-eye can work on my skin, posture and temper are to be believed. I’ve never fretted about what the rest of the world may be getting up to whilst I’m quietly minding my own business in a blissful state of semi-consciousness. But forgive me, I digress.
I began to wonder what my weekend of doing nothing (except pleasing myself, of course!) would actually look like. It would be a weekend full of simple pleasures, unencumbered by the siren calls of other people’s demands. My unashamedly me me me weekend would look something like this:
Coffee followed by some light retail therapy with friends would come first. I love browsing new perfumes. I’m always on the look out for a worthy successor to Calvin Klein’s gorgeous scent, ‘Eternity’. I graduated from ‘Charlie’ in my teens via patchouli oil and White Musk to ‘Giorgio’ in my more sophisticated 20s and 30s. I finally settled on ‘Eternity’ which I seem to have worn for well, an eternity. But it’s fun trying out new scent as both seasons and fashions come and go. Treating myself to a new lipstick is a given. Lipstick is the one make-up item I can’t leave the house without and buying a new flattering shade or formulation has got to be the ultimate feminine morale booster.
Then I’d head off for a late afternoon massage and facial with the wonderful Gail. Gail gently relaxes my hunched shoulders, tames my eyebrows into a flattering arch and coaxes my skin into a semblance of wrinkle-reduced radiance. How I wish I had taken on board the healing and restorative powers of regular massages and facials years ago. I guess I’m a latecomer to the party but seriously; if you do one thing for yourself make it a facial or a massage. (Or both!)
Home to a supper lovingly prepared by Husband (I adore a man with a pan, don’t you?) would round off a simply perfect Saturday.
And so onto Sunday. Back in the dark ages, Sunday mornings used to be spent in bed with a pile of newspapers and a pot of freshly brewed coffee. Whatever happened to that, by the way? It is definitely time to reinstate a favourite habit which seems to have mysteriously slipped by the wayside. If some unexpected activity in the sleeping area should happen too, well all the better.
Then I’m going to devote some time to de-cluttering my wardrobe. Strangely enough, I don’t find this a chore and my wardrobe certainly needs a good Marie Kondo-style going over. It’s a thrill to get re-acquainted with old favourites, maybe even unearth items I’d forgotten I owned whilst, at the same time, making room for some new stuff. Which, of course, I totally need. And as an added bonus, it’s a great feeling to donate bags of unwanted items to the charity shop. Win-win, as they say.
A stroll in the countryside on Sunday afternoon? Or binge-watching the latest scandi-drama? I’ll let the weather decide.
American author Nelson DeMIlle said, “The problem with doing nothing is not knowing when you are finished.” With respect Mr DeMille, the overflowing laundry basket and the empty fridge would provide ample clues that my precious time pleasing myself had come to an end. Besides, there’d be all those bags waiting to be delivered to the charity shop, too.
Just one last thing. Whilst I’m busy doing absolutely nothing this weekend I’ll be wearing my big pants. But perhaps that’s another story!
More stories from our wonderful guest writers here