The one Christmas present that I now rely on getting every year is my annual organiser. Frequently losing my so-called "journal" of adolescent years, I spent year nine being cursed by my science teacher for forgetting the football team clad notebook that contained my mindless doodles of boredom. Noting that this is the year I lost a shoe, a coat and a pair of tracksuit bottoms in the place is only further proof of how much I rely on the beauty of pen and paper to happily survive as a human being. Since university, my organiser has become a thing of frantic to do lists. Feverishly demanding notes of sweeping my floors and washing my computer screen used to bid me good morning, only for me to tick off "go to friend's house" on the list. Aware that only a third of us in fact tick off a third of our projected tasks, there have been periods of the academic year when I have pushed the ringbinder aside when I have needed it the most. Opting to use the final month of my calendar as a time of reconciliation, I took once again to writing in my tattered notepad to find that I am a very disgusting creature. Feel free to peruse this excerpt at your own peril...
1) Sort out feet
2) Wash sheets
3) Knit (yet another) scarf
4) Hang clothes to dry
5) Arrange bookshelf
6) Clean laptop screen
7) Sort out nails
8) Get your secret santa present
I only completed one of those tasks. Oh, how I love to watch House in my Sunday filth...
I kicked over a wine bottle to share this with you.
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