Sunday, Sunday

I think this is the first Sunday in which I got out of bed later than around 9.30am in I don't know how long. I know it probably goes against the grain among we non-church goers to clamber out from under the covers earlier than noon on the day of rest, but the week-long habit of waking at six and several other times between that and eight is a hard one for me to break. What happens is I start treating the day in my half-awake mind like a work-day, begin planning, categorising, prioritising and plain old worrying until I just have to get up and walk around and close off the parts of my mind that a psychologist will doubtless say are desperately trying to draw attention to themselves. I've also acquired a lower back ache which asserts itself if I stay in bed too long. So up I get.

This weekend was different. We had planned to go to town and listen to some Blues, but in the event found a few reasons not to go. Weather was one of them. Waiting at a wet bus-stop is seldom fun, especially when it's wind-blown rain. So we stayed home and watched television and drank beer. Even that was a hard course for me to follow this week. I had had enough by 11.00pm and went off to bed.

Work has been long and while not altogther difficult it has been very intense this past week. I think my mind is finding it a bit difficult to adjust to the change in pace my all-but-official promotion to a new clerical grade has brought on. I've been encouraged by favourable comments by workmates who have complimented my ability to deal with customers. The word "efficient" has come up more than once, which is a welcome boost to the self-confidence.

Unfortunately the same efficiency doesn't apply to my home office, which, following some pointed remarks and the judicial slamming of some cupboard doors by my beloved searching for bank envelopes among the sprawling mess, finally received a hasty tidy-up half an hour ago.

I'm supposed to be completing a 2004 tax return which the Revenue Commissioners reminded me of in a firm but uncompromising letter on Friday. The resulting mess of paperwork is causing no end of irritation in some quarters, not least because it is obviously accompanied by complete inactivity today on the tax return front. Instead I've been adding lists of Takeaways to the DSW Forum and catching up on online gossip. In any case, I've found that the memos and receipts I need to calculate the self-employment income for the 2004 year are in diaries at my father's house and anything else that might have helped has been lost in the easy-as computer failure after Christmas. Fine excuses for inactivity are the hallmark of writers everywhere!

Here is Herself back from the shop. Wonder if there's a teabag featuring anywhere in my immediate future?