I’m sat surrounded by the detritus of Christmas -it’s a mince pie leftover hangover and oddly I’m not bothered. Yesterday I was bothered; I threw pegs at my husband and it felt better. (I do actually throw things, usually inanimate, but pegs are a new thing).
I like this week. It’s a time-gap somewhere between New Year expectation of a new beginning and the ability to have one last chance to finish what you’ve started. It’s like being Doctor Who (ok, not like that at all, no Tardis, and think what I could get done with a sonic screwdriver) where you can shift between the almost back to work normality of your average week, and watching Scooby Doo in your PJ’s if you really want to.
Nobody expects anything of this week so there is nothing to prove. My house is messy? Hey, it’s just after Christmas. Taking up something new? That’s fine, it’s almost the New Year. You can honestly get away with most things in this one week which isn’t a proper week and never will be.
And I like the build up to the next bit. The promise of another year to ‘get my shit together and get stuff done’. Being a list writer, I want to write resolutions down, but not this time. I have a different plan.