Do you ever have one of those moments where you think to yourself “my gosh, I’m mature”. I don’t get it very often, obviously, as I feel moved enough by the feeling to write a column about it — and therefore negating any maturity I may have displayed earlier.
But, alas, I had that feeling today when I was, on my day off, voluntarily cleaning the flat and listening to French jazz, whereas you’d normally find me lying on the sofa watching a bad action film and wishing I was Michelle Rodriguez or, like yesterday, watching a Miley Cyrus film while eating a microwave-d chocolate bar (I thoroughly recommend this, by the way).
Anyway, today was different. I felt as though I was doing something a 30-year-old should be doing and, you know what? I found it relaxing and almost enjoyable. Except cleaning the bathroom, which is horrid. I swapped the French jazz for something a bit feistier when I tackled the bathroom. One can’t feel Parisian and chic while wearing marigolds. Also, it started to give me a headache a bit and I began to crave a bit of Katy Perry.
But as well as accidental, fleeting moments of grown-up-ness, I have made a conscious decision (as of yesterday) to handle my schedule a little differently.
Normally, I give myself the easiest day I possibly can and let “tomorrow Gaby” deal with the fallout of having an impossible number of errands to do the next day. I do the bare minimum every day and make things hard for myself later on.
It’s a bit of a short-sighted plan, of course, because “tomorrow Gaby” becomes “present time Gaby” all too quickly, and so I get stressed out by always being behind on tasks. So part of my grown up plan is to give myself an easy life tomorrow. I want life to get easier, not to feel like I am slowly drowning in things I have to do. Busy and disorganised feel the same, but are actually very different.
I’ll give you a little insight into how my disorganisation makes my life harder in really ridiculous ways; this week, I lost my keys four times. FOUR TIMES. Three of those times were in the same day. One of those times I had a huge bag of ice with me when I realised I was locked out. It’s not fun to go searching for your boyfriend (who has the key) when he works 20 minutes walk away and you’re staggering about with a huge bag of rapidly melting ice. I am just thankful I do have a patient boyfriend who can save me every single week.
Also this week, I decided to get my bike fixed. The tires are flat, so I tried to roll it, but it wouldn’t. Reluctantly, I picked up the really heavy bike and carried it down a busy street for ten minutes to the repairs shop. I had numerous people along the way helpfully suggest I ride it instead. I tutted like they were foolish. Then, when I got to the shop, I realised the bike wheel was locked and, actually, had I unlocked it, I wouldn’t have needed to carry a 30kg bike for ten minutes and get stared at so much.
I am really bored of being an idiot and always sitting outside my flat searching through every nook and cranny of my bag, pockets and wallet for keys I don’t have or carrying bikes in my arms down the street. It would be nice to be a little wiser and to not have farcical problems like this. I wonder if listening to jazz music more often will help?