I am at home again, as in my own house. I am terrible pampered really. I have a lovely home that I don't need to share with anyone and I don't want to share so I don't. I have all the peace and quiet anyone could ever wish for. My income is modest but steady and my outgoings limited. Money isn't something I think a lot about. I could think about it a lot more and that could become one of my #26habits. I know I have my not-shopping challenges but that is more about the virtues of frugality and the mitigation of consumerism.
Am reading Joan Didion's "Goodbye to all That" and liking it. She writes "That was the year, my twenty-eighth, when I was discovering that not all of the promises would be kept, that some things are in face irrevocable and that it had counted after all, every evasion and every procrastination, every mistake, every word, all of it."
She was fortunate to discover that so young. It is true, everything counts although the time for counting comes much later than the time for casting.
She writes later about dissipated afternoons ( I once knew a lot of those) and says "I was not then guilt-ridden about spending afternoons that way, because I still had all the afternoons in the world".
"I still had all the afternoons in the world". All the nights and days and afternoons I spent fucking around with my mental health project or phoning in my performance at work or tolerating a messy house, because I had all the afternoons in the world. Except we don't. We have merely a handful of afternoons at best.