Having been away last weekend I am still trying to catch up with myself. The cat-feeding thing worked out well, incidentally, and the cats were only slightly traumatised by not having someone constantly on hand to save them from being stuck on the wrong side of the door; the trip to Dunoon was a great success despite one of my sons and I accidentally driving round and round the Trossachs for what seemed like an eternity on the way; we all had far too much exercise, mainly because the area around Dunoon turned out to be much more mountainous than we had expected. It didn’t look like that on the map! One of the many things I never learn from experience is that whereas maps are flat, Scotland is hilly.
But never mind, I am making up for that by having very little exercise this weekend. Apart from the mental contortions I’ve had to go through to prioritise all the varied tasks I’ve been putting off. And then the contortions of conscience as I ignore the domestic priorities and concentrate on reading a book about the Festival of Britain which I bought as research for the novel I plan to write for this year’s NaNoWriMo, and on watching ‘Dante’s Peak’ on television for only the umpteenth time, but on this occasion armed with the volcano knowledge I picked up from a series of tv programmes earlier in the year.
This morning I plan to sort out all the mail that has arrived in the past few months and which has been thrown in a series of heaps all round my desk in the conservatory. The reason for bothering to do this is that there is something lost in the heaps that I need to find before 2 pm today, otherwise I could probably leave it all where it is for another few months or until it causes a minor landslide. It might make more sense just to put a big shredder behind the front door and let the postman deliver the mail straight into it.
Edited to add: It turned out to be well worthwhile sorting out my mail – as well as the thing I needed to find by 2 pm, which is my membership form for my theatre group, I found my cheque-book, my son’s graduation photos, my tickets for the new season of the Royal Lyceum Theatre, some Tesco vouchers, my car insurance documents and a *black* card for Matalan, which apparently means I’ve spent £150 there in the past year, something I find rather worrying!
I think the moral of this story is that I should try to keep up with paperwork and not get so far behind. Although a moral which is more musical to my ears is that I can always find things eventually, no matter how lost they seem to be!