Yesterday, I had a bit of a holiday.
There are days when it appears I do very little but my mind is busy all the time, worrying that I'm not achieving anything, puzzling over things I may have forgotten to do, being busy, being occupied with insignificancies because that's what you have to do, isn't it? Be busy. Doing nothing is BAD AND WRONG.
These days are exhausting. More exhausting than the days that are so busy, you hardly have time to breathe.
So, yesterday I designated to be a holiday.
I was active in my doing-nothingness. After a leisurely ride on the forest, mostly I slept in the garden, slept on the bed, ate a little, drank a little, listened to an audiobook (Neil Gaiman's wonderful The Ocean At The End of the Lane),
Reading would have been too much effort. Holding the book. Turning the pages. Keeping the eyes open.
I achieved a lot yesterday.