I mentioned the other week that we'd closed our social diary, and we were happy about it, well we're even less busy now.
Dan finally got home from Manchester last night and said he just couldn't face going back again this weekend to meet our friend. It's something we do every year and it's reached a point where we don't really enjoy it, especially the travel. We've said no to Manchester to someone else already as I said, but this is a longstanding engagement.
Now the "we can't make it" text has been sent it's a huge relief. Dan's chosen to work at home today, and we have no plans for this weekend. We don't need to fill our time, being busy seems to be a thing, as though saying no to things or having no plans appears to be failure of some kind. I know that feeling, I used to see it as a sport I think - look at how much rushing around I'm doing, I must be so popular! I wasn't popular, I just had that fear of missing out.
Unfashionable as it is to say, I'm not adventurous, I'm not a thrill seeker, I don't have huge horizons. I like a brew, something slow cooked for tea, a nice sit down, and listening to the football scores come in on the radio preferably when I'm having an afternoon nap. I can see how people may think that's wasting my life, I call it a household winter tradition.