On Tuesday I go into hospital for some minor surgery. A common procedure on women and one I have had before (though last time was exploratory, this one is the real deal).
I find myself looking forward to an entire week off work with nothing to do but be waited on and take the drugs the nice people at the hospital will provide me with.
Taking a step back, it seems quite peculiar that in order to allow myself to take an absolute break from life, it takes a hospital visit. That otherwise my enthusiasm to get out there and Do Things would produce guilt that I wasn't having an exciting enough time if I just took a week off work to veg about. Perhaps it's a product of the impending birthday (quick! getting old! better prove that you've made something of yourself. do stuff! do it now!), a product of society (new instant noodles, cooks in just 2 minutes instead of that boring slow 5 minute noodle brand), or a product of me.
And then I stop worrying about the whys and the wherefores and just look forward to spending days in bed, wearing my slippers and my dressing gown all day. Decadent.
Or perhaps I'm just mad. ;)