He looked at me with a mix of pure horror and utter confusion.
“What will you do with your time?”
“Oh I’ll think of something,” was my calm response.
I’m working late, dear readers. It seemed like a good idea at the time when I agreed to work late so hubby could football train. I mentally noted I could donate extra hours to the paper contract extension, and any other important matters.
The problem is, it’s been a quiet period in the office, so I’ve completed the paper contract extension and all other important matters. I’m entirely on top of the work load and my hand over folder to my maternity cover. I'm now awaiting for the next printing schedule/crisis. (This is very rare, might I add.)
Hence my maternity cover’s reaction when referring to the fact I would not be rushing out the door at 5pm on the dot.
But in my mind, there are always things to do. Whether I’m left alone in the office or the house, or I’ve been abandoned for football, I never struggle to fill my time.
I literally can not remember the last time I moaned I was bored. Bored is not a word in my vocabulary.
Take last night for instance, hubby was watching football and it was not a particularly interesting match. I was trying to watch The Great British Bake Off on the ipad, but to my annoyance, it kept crashing. Instead of slouching on the sofa complaining the match was boring and I was bored, I decided to plonk myself upstairs and make forthcoming birthday cards. Once this task was completed, I surfed the internet for forthcoming birthday ideas, and then I finished off with a bubble bath, scented candles, and a magazine. Bored? Nope, not me sir.
Likewise with tonight. I could sit here moping and staring out the window at KFC, thinking how boring this is, but what good is that? Besides, I can always think of something to do to amuse myself. My brain hardly ever switches off, and I am not a fan of wasting time.
So tonight, from the office, I need to chase the company I ordered the Peter Rabbit nursery linen from.
I must text a friend to make arrangements for her daughter’s birthday on Sunday.
I should finalise another arrangement to see another friend’s new born baby.
I will telephone the Indian restaurant to book a table for Saturday night, our first wedding anniversary.
I’ll read the emails hubby has sent me regarding Cornwall holiday cottages for next year.
I will also do some work stuff, such as shredding old finances I’ve come across as a result of cleaning out my drawers.
As well as shredding I will recycle old magazines to make way for new ones.
I think I'll finally get round to clearing out the contents underneath my desk, and fill my carrier bags with books, shoes and cake tins.
I’d like to stroll over to the desk at the end of office, and help myself to the chocolate shortbread, which a colleague kindly brought into the office, to celebrate six years in employment.
All this must be completed before my (later) train home!
So yes, there are plenty of things to do with my time, and I’m afraid, dear readers, there is no time left to blog about it.
And certainly no time to use that b word.