Go Away! Leave me alone.

Just like Greta Garbo,  I 'vant to be alone.'
I crave solitude.
In fact this morning as I dusted the living room furniture, punched up the pillows and realigned everything on the book shelf (don't spirit levels come in handy?) I had the urge to just plop down on the couch and put my feet up. Silly moi!

So, I organized my books into a neat pile on top of the footstool. From large to small, they stacked almost a foot high.  These are the books that I've been trying to find time to read this year. I don't want to put them on the bookshelf because that would be like admitting defeat; as long as they're out there in front of the arm chair then I can imagine that I'm going to have the time to sit down and read one of them. And maybe even FINISH it! They are all half begun because soon I'm disturbed by the needs of people and the world, (selfish buggers).

I also re-stacked my unread magazines and lovingly stroked their covers as I lined them up in chronological order.  (You do that too, right?)

When I finished I thought how nice and tranquil the room looked.
Neat and tidy and very welcoming.

If only I had TIME to sit in it.

I found myself seriously daydreaming about being locked in there with my unfinished reading material.  I have my music in there too. Hundreds of tunes on my iPod.  If someone was to slide some food in from time to time through the door, opened only wide enough to allow a tray and a cup glass to pass through, I would be in my element.

I saw a contraption in a store today. It's a tray of sorts which fits across the top of the bath by clamping to either side of it.  It comes with a stand which folds out as a book rest and a little groove for your wine glass, plus a space for a candle!! How Ridiculous! Who's got time for THAT?  I've tried reading in the bath but I've dropped the book in the water more times than I can remember because I always fall asleep as soon as I get in.  I've tried drinking wine in the bath too but I've ended up with a wine stained, soaking wet book.  I dread to think what would happen if I added a candle to the mix. Though it might come in handy for drying the pages.

I suppose you are wondering what kind of demands I have on my time which are so important that I don't even have time to sit and read? Me too! Where does the time go? Up to the age of 40 it meandered along, slowly and often pleasantly. My kids grew up at the usual pace, taking the required time to experience childhood milestones, then puberty, followed by those wonderful teenage years, which are all now (thankfully), a bit of a blur. There always seemed to be time to sit and read books, from start to finish and sometimes, if it was a real page turner I'd read it in one day! I'm baffled as to how I ever managed such a thing? Housework got done, I went to work, I cooked and shopped and went out socially a LOT.  There was never a rush to do things. There was always tomorrow.

Now after 50 and hurtling towards 60 in another few years...................... (God why are you doing this to me? Please make it STOP!) the time is rushing by in a blur. 

I wake up on Monday morning and then, BANG, it's Sunday night again. A week just flew by. Did anybody see it?

Somebody is bound to comment, "You really must make time for yourself Clippy!" 

Well yes, that's true. Tell me where to find that precious time. Even as I sit here blogging it's mocking me from behind and whispering about the hundred other things I've left undone. Do I really have time to even post this? 

If I was to believe those unread magazines, I also must make time to exercise, say prayers, meditate and do yoga, coordinate my wardrobe for the week, declutter my cupboards, drawers and closets, email my family and friends and waste time catch up on Facebook. I must try to keep my hair styled and my nails painted, my feet pedicured and for certain keep those dreaded and unsightly wrinkles and sags at bay. God forbid I don't look flawless at all times.  I must not forget also to keep abreast (geddit?) of  all the bloody things that are required to prevent a post-menopausal woman from dropping to bits. 

I must plan nutritious meals which shouldn't involve mad, last minute shopping on the way home from work and queuing up in front of stupid self-service check outs to tussle with a robotic Nazi who demands I put my goods ON the magic eye thing* and then, two seconds later, ORDERS me to remove them. Then as I struggle to bag my goods and begone, its condescending female voice   orders me, with a new command every few seconds to; "PLEASE TAKE YOUR CHANGE!" "DON'T FORGET YOUR RECEIPT!" "PLEASE REMOVE YOUR BAGS!"  "DON'T FORGET TO TAKE YOUR PURCHASES" (what am I, daft?)  "DON'T FORGET TO GO HOME!"  "YOU HAVE BOUGHT A COMPLETE LOAD OF RUBBISH AND NONE OF IT IS SUITABLE TO MAKE A DECENT MEAL." " DON'T FORGET TO STOP AND PICK UP SOME WINE. YOU'RE GOING TO NEED IT!"  "THANK YOU FOR SHOPPING HERE. HAVE A NICE DAY!'  " NOW GET OUT!"
  Very soon, I'm going to lock myself in the living room for a whole weekend and not come out till I've listened to all the music I've downloaded and not had time to enjoy, and I will finish all of those half read books and unopened magazines, and I will snort at the ridiculous ideals they want me to aspire to, in order to be fulfilled and 'fully alive'.  I will spill wine on my book covers, lounge over the crushed pillows with my feet up,  get grease stains on the pages and drop crumbs between the cushions on the couch!

I'm not going to shower or get dressed either, or comb my hair,  or probably not even look in a mirror the whole time.   So don't bother visiting. It ain't going to be pretty.


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*technical term for that thing that you slide your purchase in front of, bar code facing in, or is it down? it beeps, you know, that thing!