18 October, Sunday: Filling In Today’s Square

18 October, Sunday, sunny

I slept until I woke up on my own. The curtain wasn’t quite closed, and a strip of light lay on the wall, creeping slowly upward. That was the least hurried sleep I’ve had all week.

I started by tidying the flat: clothes into the washing machine, everything on the desk back where it belongs, the floor mopped twice. Tidying is a strange thing — it looks like you are sorting out other objects, but really you are sorting yourself out. When I straightened up and looked around, the room was clean and a corner of my head was empty again.

At noon I cooked for myself: two dishes and a soup, half an hour longer than usual, but I ate slowly. Normally eating is like solving a problem; today eating was just eating.

In the afternoon I went out and walked for forty minutes. The weather was good. Kids were cycling along the road, old men were playing chess under the trees, the plane leaves are turning yellow and a few had landed on car roofs. Halfway round, something in me sank — I thought about Monday coming again, and about how none of the things I wanted to do were finished.

Then it straightened out: the weekend is for breathing, not for closing tickets. So I slowed down and took one extra street.

Home in the evening, I made a cup of tea and turned a few pages. I found a line I liked and copied it into my notebook.

Before bed I wrote next week’s three things down on paper — all small, small enough that I am certain to finish them.

A day does not need to be dramatic. Fill in today’s square, and you are already a step further than yesterday.

An ordinary Sunday. And a good one.