Contrast this

There’s a certain selection bias in these notes.  It’s much easier to wax lyrical about a day full of activity, a day where stuff gets done and to-do lists shrink and there are compelling verbs and colour to play with.
Days spent in Hong Kong in lounges and bars and restaurants.
On days like to today it’s tempting to let the Daily Note slide. But in the interests of full disclosure, of presenting a more balanced picture of la vie deux pouce, let me tell you about my boring, unproductive day.

The toilet won’t stop flushing

It’s a small thing, unless there’s a drought, or you pay for the water you use.
Whoops. Hang on a minute…
Every time I spend a penny (or a pound) and flush the loo, I have to hang about jiggling the button, sometimes lifting the cistern lid to fiddle with the internals and stop the torrent. It’s time consuming. Eventually I’ll have to call a plumber who will give me a six-hour window when they may or may not turn up and may or may not have the part required to fix the runny dunny.
The very notion is exhausting. It’s enough to make me stop drinking tea and stem the flow. Almost.

I have a hankering

Periodically I imagine what life must have been like in prehistoric times, when there were no toilets or worm blankets or BAS forms to complete. Except for the absence of Riesling and Netflix, I think I would have been much happier then.
Imagine, an existence where women didn’t agonise over velvet and feather cushions ruined by spilt lattes. When sugar wasn’t a dirty word. Because dirt wasn’t a dirty word. When your greatest anxiety was where you next meal might be grazing, not which hashtags to use on your next Instagram post.

What’s the opposite of productive?

Today I slouched about, paralysed with anxiety about unopened emails and impending two-day meetings interstate and a daughter who doesn’t talk to me. I washed some towels, because that’s easy, and emptied the dishwasher and swept the floor. Then I picked up my laptop and drove to my local cafe, which is around the corner, so I could drink coffee and CONCENTRATE.
I spent an hour designing a graphic to illustrate a web article and Facebook post. Half of that time was spent finding just the right shape to splash across a photo to grab people’s attention and encourage them TO REGISTER. The shape eluded me. I reckon people’s propensity TO REGISTER remains unaffected.
Fortified, I returned to the home office and wrote a newsletter.
At 6pm The Husband walked in from a 12-hour work day, “ravenous”. Which turned my mind to dinner. So I drove to the butcher and bought burgers. Then dropped into the supermarket for bread rolls (including a gluten free version) and frozen chips.
I had two glasses of wine and a chunk of rocky road chocolate after dinner.
The rowing machine lay dormant.
I did not call Telstra. The landline remains disconnected.
copywriting me

Angela Bensted is Brisbane-based freelance writer who likes to listen first and struggle with syntax later. She pitches stories to magazines, sometimes successfully, and helps businesses produce compelling copy for print and online.

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