…. hopefully be fit and healthy. Right now the only way I could get a day to myself I would have to be in a coma.
A whole day to myself feels like such a luxury that I am torn as to how I would spend it. It would be lovely to say “well I would just stay in bed” but that feels like such a waste of a glorious day. But then do I cram it so full of “me” things that I then need a day to recover?
Decisions, decisions. And now I am over-thinking it and this is probably why it never happens.
Right, I would probably try and get up relatively early so I don’t waste too much of it, but not as early as the alarm normally goes off (6am). I would wander downstairs in my lovely white dressing gown (rather than the usual gone-grey-in-the-wash towel that doesn’t quite go round my ample arse) and make myself a cup of tea which would be taken back to bed.
Tea in bed and reading The Times on my iPad for a couple of hours. I will have to leave the curtains shut though because if I have them open I will see how dirty the windows are and it will make me twitchy and want to get up and clean them.
Next on the agenda would be a bath. In a luxurious bathroom. ie not ours. Ours is set to be ripped out and replaced because it is one of the most cold and sterile bathrooms I have ever seen — floor to ceiling white tiles. We have a huge two person jacuzzi bath that was here when we moved in. You might go “oooooh” but it is THE most impractical bath in the history of the world. You cannot lie down in it and it is so deep that you cannot fill it with hot water. So in the six years we have lived here, I have had two baths in this house.
So I would like to lie in a hot deep bubbly bath with candles and Tibetan monks chanting in the backround.
The afternoon I think would be a bit more energetic and would involve a stroll down the Kings Road in Chelsea (Kings Roadfor a “stroll from your sofa”!!!) , my favourite road to waste a day wandering around. Obviously as this day is all in my head I would be able to buy whatever I like and not have to worry about paying for it. The shops would all accept chocolate buttons as currency.
All the clothes and shoes I try on will fit me and will make me look like a supermodel.
On to dinner and I will meet up with Mr B and the three (not so) smalls for dinner. In a restaurant chosen by Mr B. The food will be fabulous and the wine will be white, chilled and from Burgundy. Or fizzy. And there will be Martinis in proper Martini glasses, not in the pint glass they come in at home.
And so then it will be home again. To reflect on my sofa on what a great day it was.
But how pleased I am that it is not like that everyday. Whilst “me” days like this are lovely in theory. They aren’t really me in reality.
Now if you will excuse me I have three phone calls to make, some work to do, dinner to prepare and three letters to get written and in the post.