How to procrastinate well.

Gloomy days. Not even outside. There can be sunshine beyond the pane for all I care.

I am dragging my feet from the couch to the dining table. I open my laptop to write and instead watch Safiya’s video where she melts Yankee candles to make a giant one.

I turn on the radiator. It is cold, and the heat pump is not doing it for me. I wrap myself in a throw and pick up one of those mocha sachets from the shelf that takes 2 minutes to make and contains who knows what.

I think if I drink it and get a little bit of sugar and caffeine in me, things will pick up.

I feel scared to open my laptop and to begin typing, so for a while I spend time making a little movie out of the footage from today’s walk to send to my family; I check messages; I go online to see what kind of cute, knitted dress I might buy from Kmart, only to realise that none of this excites me.

What excites me is the same thing that scares me - writing and being alone with the beast. The beast is the writing judge, who is also a wall, who is also a moving wall.

I begin typing, and things are tumbling out. Maybe a little clumsy, maybe not well articulated. Maybe I should turn my Swann’s Way face down so Monsieur Proust does not have to bear witness. Nevertheless, here I am a little naked, wondering.