As I lay awake at 4:30am the other morning, staring at the ceiling and hoping the soothing sounds of the planes roaring overhead would shortly lull me back to sleep, I found myself frantically making list after list in my head. All advice in that situation is to sit up, switch on a light and write those lists down, so your mind will be clear and you can fall back asleep, but I share my bed with H1*, or as he is also known, The Worst Sleeper In The World, and if I did that he would wake up and throttle me, in an incoherent, sleep deprived rage.
I never did get back to sleep, but then again, I'm still alive, so it wasn't so bad really. And once I had pulled my reluctant body out of bed, fed it, showered it, and made my usual commute to the living room, I was rather excited at the idea of putting those lists to paper (those I could remember, that is - no doubt some are gone, not to resurface again until the next time insomnia randomly attacks). I love a good list. I'm one of those incredibly sad people who will sometimes write things on a list that I've already done, just to derive the satisfaction of crossing it out again. I'm only so okay and upfront about this because I know that I'm not alone.
My life is changing, you see. I don't want to be all James Bond about it, but there is a limit as to what I'm going to share right now - suffice to say that there is a lot to think about, and without my lists I could well completely lose it. I certainly wouldn't be getting any sleep. But with my lists - well, I'm just like Superwoman, really. Charging through my days, getting things done, dealing with the mundane, crossing items off with a smooth, artistic sweep of my pen. I'm looking at today's list right now, and am happy to report that, at 6:20pm, everything is done, except one thing, but that can always be neatly delegated to tomorrow's list.
Such is the beauty and power of a list. You write it down, you tick it off, and if you don't, there is always another list. I feel like there's a metaphor for life somewhere in there, but I'm happy for you all to work that one out yourselves.**
By the way, not a lot has happened this last week, mainly because the weather has been stupendously horrendous. Hence why I'm raving about lists. Usually, when it rains in London, it doesn't really rain at all, but just surrounds you with a gentle yet persistent drizzly mist, which is annoying but is not enough cause to get out the umbrella, until suddenly you realise you're soaking wet, and you stay that way for the rest of the day. Over the last week, however, we have had full on rain of the sort that will keep you inside, watching repeat episodes of The Hills and eating weird concoctions of food because you don't want to go out to get anything. A break in the weather allowed me an incredibly pleasant Sunday afternoon in Marylebone, which comes highly recommended, but really, that's about it - so I'm sorry for the current boring state of affairs. I'm off to Meribel to go snowboarding this weekend, so am bound to get some good, solidly amusing stories out of that. In fact, I can leave you with something that will make you laugh - me on a snowboard. Argh.
Happy Easter, everyone!
*Unless you are my grandma, in which case I share my bed with NOBODY AT ALL, EVER.
**If you do work it out, feel free to tell me about it! Not that I don't know what it is, of course.