A Sense of Achievement

I didn’t want to do much today. I thought I’d go for a wee run after breakfast. The plan said 20 miles but the plan could fuck off. I might do 10, or 13 or maybe even 15 miles. I’d do 20 if I got really lost. I had some chores to do too, and packing for my trip to London this week.

I did none of those things.

I ate a box of chocolates. It’s an achievement of sorts, I suppose. It was a SMART goal. It was Specific: eat an entire box of chocolates today. It was Measurable: eat one box of chocolates. It was Attainable: four boxes of chocolates would have been a stretch at this point in my training cycle. It was Rewarding: I fucking love chocolate so consuming an entire box of it was really its own reward and therefore almost Zen. Finally it was within a given Time: I ate those chocolates today.  It was just not my SMART goal for today.

It wouldn’t have been a smart thing to do any day but I didn’t explode and I wasn’t sick but I didn’t go for my run. I have been to the Household Waste Site too. (This is Cambridge; we don’t have a tip, darlings.)

I’ve also made dinner. It was supposed to be lamb casserole but there was no diced lamb in Tesco nearby. I came back thinking I’d do beef stew instead but it turns out I bought minced lamb because I wasn’t paying enough attention so we’re having that with dumplings. We will if I first of all remember that I still have to make the dumplings; secondly, remember how to make dumplings; and finally, remember to put the dumplings into the mince.

(I had to check that I have actually started to cook dinner and not just imagined that I’ve put it in the oven. It’s being one of those days.)

Lack of sleep and painkiller hangovers are playing havoc with me. One day when the pain has faded and the anger has abated sufficiently for me to write about it without the result being just one huge FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! then I’ll tell you all about my Adventures in Dentistry. It’s probably going to be a while before that happens.

I still need to pack, fill the car’s tank with diesel, sort out some papers for the morning, worry a bit, have a brief panic, unpack, sigh, repack, realise that I’ll need some of the stuff I’ve packed overnight, swear, sigh, unpack a bit, fish out the things I need, repack everything else, worry about forgetting the things I need overnight when I leave at oh fuck o’clock tomorrow morning and finally not get enough sleep tonight because I’m worried about getting up in time to get to Ealing tomorrow.

Sundays haven’t changed since I was 14 and had to do homework over the weekend for a Monday morning. I’m nearly 50 years old and I’m still fed up with doing my homework.

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