I love Thursdays. I love them for all the normal reasons – it’s close to the end of the week, the weekend is in sight, and so on. But I have more reasons than most to love Thursdays.
Thursday is my bliss day. No make-up, floppy comfy clothes, normally paint-spattered or covered in holes – the kind of clothes no one wears in public. And then I do whatever moves me. The house is completely peaceful and quiet, except for the occasional bark from one of the dogs, or sporadic and noisy demands from the cat. My phone doesn’t ring. I play Mozart very loudly. I sit and write outside in the sun, watching the creepy crawly laze its way round the pool. I have endless cups of tea, I read (normally searching for inspiration and then get accidentally stuck in a book), I rearrange my office. I ignore my to-do list. For the most part. I eat when I feel like it, if I feel like it. I try to make sensible food choices. But mostly all the things I usually worry endlessly about are hushed. I feel calm.
This morning I have dusted and cleaned all 1200 of my books. I’ve re-categorized my bookshelves according to my own private system. Very rarely according to author. Sometimes I use subject, sometimes I use colour. But whichever way I do it, I know exactly where each one is. My family think this is sad. I just think it’s being organised. And tidy. And it prevents them pilfering because they will always get found out. Maybe that’s why they think it’s sad…
So now I’m sitting in my office, in my new blue chair that is better for my back and provides distraction when I swivel around in it. The cat is curled up in his usual spot on the chest in front of the window. A cool breeze is blowing – unusual for this country at this time of year – and the shadows of the jacaranda tree are playing across the driveway. And I have a beautiful feeling – all is right in my world.