I've had decidedly diminishing returns in everything I've turned my hand to over the last couple of weeks. With hindsight, it's possibly because the schedule I set myself for doing things (if a collection of vague intentions can really be described as a schedule) now I'm my own boss has me working seven days a week without variation. Weekends were invented for a reason - I'll arrange things in future so I do different kinds of not-work on different days, and make myself stick to it. And not even pay myself overtime if I work extra.
In recognition of this, I've spontaneously decided to go to Manchester tomorrow. I'm not sure what the mental connection is, but that doesn't matter - I've not been there since the MSO in 2004, and I've never really explored the city as much as I probably should. Then I'll come back home and be all refreshed and get on with things on Sunday. It might happen. And monkeys might fly out of my butt.
1 comment:
Why are monkeys in your butt?
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