You know what I hate?
I hate it when bloggers start making vague references to exciting new projects which they’d LOVE to tell you about, but, you know, they just CAN’T, so they’ll just have to stay silent, except not really, because they then go on to mention it at every possible opportunity, while never, ever telling you exactly what it was.
So, yeah, this month I was invited to take part in an exciting new (work-related) project, which, guys, I just can’t tell you about (yet), except to say that it’s been basically taking up every spare second for the last couple of weeks. Seriously, I’m lucky to just get dressed in the morning, let alone get dressed in something worth photographing. As I write this, for instance, I’m wearing my running gear, which I put on with the intention of actually running in, but which I then didn’t do, so now I’m just dressed like a (scruffy) runner in order to sit at my desk. Oh, the humanity!
Anyway, there won’t be many posts until I meet my deadline, is what I’m saying. Or, you never know, there MIGHT be posts… they just won’t be very good. Sorry about that. As for all of my “new year, new me” stuff, well, as you can probably tell from the fact that I’m wearing running clothes but not actually running in them, I’ve hit a bit of a brick wall with that too: I’m basically glued to my desk right now, and I’m the kind of person who panics if she has more than one thing to do at a time, so I think I’m just going to pretend the new year starts in February, or maybe March. In fact, let’s just call it June, to be on the safe side.
In order to try and wrestle some organisation out of the chaos currently surrounding me, then, last week I ordered a Moleskin diary from Amazon. Then I ordered Amazon Prime by mistake. I swear to God, I just clicked the button to see how much it was going to cost me, and next thing I knew I was reading a message saying, “Howdy, new Amazon Prime Member! Thanks for that £50 we’ve just taken out of your bank account!” GAH. I DID work out how to cancel it, so I’m just hoping that went through, otherwise this little notebook cost me £57, and, I mean, I LIKE it, but not THAT much.
It’s a long time since I had a paper diary. I used to buy one every year, and opening it up, filling in all my details and then wondering how long it would be before I (inevitably) lost it was all part of the New Year ritual. For the last few years, though, I’ve been mostly trying to organise myself using my iPhone and the calendars on my email programme. Apparently that wasn’t working too well for me, though, because last week I felt so disorganised I was actually getting all panicky, so I ordered this, so I can try to keep track of things like how many Topshop skirts I currently need to return*, who has yet to pay me for things I did weeks ago and stuff like that. I don’t know why, but writing things down on actual paper somehow makes them seem more REAL, and makes me feel more in control of them, even although I’m totally not.
So far I’m really liking it. It has tabbed pages, a bunch of fun stickers (I’m 12, I like stickers. Although, I have to admit, I was a little concerned when I saw how many stickers with the “hospital” sign were included. Why will I need so many stickers denoting a trip to the hospital? WHAT DO MOLESKIN KNOW THAT I DON’T?) (I expect the “To Buy” ones will come in handy, though.), and lots of blank space to jot down all of the ideas I have, but never seem to get round to actually putting into practice.
(I was also confused by the ‘hairdryer’ sticker, and thought it was there to remind me to dry my hair, which, I mean, I know I’ve been a bit disorganised this month, but COME ON. Then I worked out it’s probably to remind me about hair cuts, which reminds me: I need to get my hair cut. I shall write a reminder in my new diary!)
The only problem? I haven’t actually had a chance to sit down and fill in all of the things I need to keep track of. I’ll have to take a look and see if I can free up some space in my diary for that…
(*The returning-of-the-skirt went smoothly, I’m pleased to report. I took it in to my local Topshop, and they honestly couldn’t have been nicer about it: in fact, the sales assistants were almost as horrified as I was by the sight of the poor thing,and all gathered around the body to gasp in horror at it. They refunded me without a quibble, and revealed that they’d had a dress in the same fabric returned with exactly the same issue, so it does seem to have been a problem with the skirt, rather than the cleaners. This doesn’t bode well for the two new ones currently hanging in my closet, but I’ve worked out that all I have to do is totally transform my personality and miraculously turn into the kind of elegant, refined woman who never, EVER gets mud on her skirt or dribbles food down her top, and it’ll be good. I’m sure that will work out fine.)