I’m sitting on the sofa right now, feeling absolutely shattered after a rather large Sunday lunch. You know that kind of tired where you’ve eaten enough to make you question all your life choices and the sofa suddenly feels like the safest and most comfortable place in the entire world? That’s me.
It’s Sunday and I don’t actually have anything I need to do.
Nothing is particularly urgent. There are no appointments I need to rush off to, nobody is expecting me anywhere, and there isn’t anything that absolutely has to be done today. I could quite happily stay exactly where I am for the rest of the afternoon, watching television, drinking tea and letting myself
So why, then, do I feel guilty?
It’s ridiculous really, isn’t it?
We’ve somehow been conditioned to believe that if we’re sitting down doing nothing, we’re wasting time. As though every minute of the day needs to be filled with something useful. Cleaning, working, organising, shopping, cooking, replying to messages, making plans… the list is endless.
Maybe that’s what Sundays are actually for.
Maybe I can just be tired. Maybe I can enjoy the fact that I’ve had a big lunch, I’ve got nowhere I need to be.
The house isn’t going anywhere. The washing certainly isn’t going anywhere. And let’s be honest, it will still be there tomorrow looking at me accusingly.
So I’m going to try something completely radical.
I’m going to do nothing.
I’m going to sit here on my sofa, have another cup of tea, probably watch something completely mindless on television and enjoy the rare luxury of having absolutely nowhere to be.
Oooo no I forgot the last episode of Furious is on Disney. I’ll watch that!
Isabelle Cheren 