This year, I am going to be lazy.
Really, really lazy.
I'm going to be self indulgent.
I'm going to sleep in late whenever I can, and take lots of naps.
I'm going to move slowly, pause often, and feed my body delicious food. I'm going to savour every bite.
I'm going to buy some bathroom scales, and smash them.
I will not get smaller this year.
I will weigh my words more consistently and more carefully than I would be expected to weigh my body. Words are spells, and I'm done with careless weaving.
In a world that fetishises being busy, I'm going to cut everything I can from my schedule. I'm going to rest more, make friends with cobwebs and let myself feel bored.
I'm going to divorce the word "guilty" from the word "pleasure". I will refrain from moralising food and drink, leisure and health. I am going to be demonstrative in my appreciation of the things that I enjoy. I refuse to care if others think they are low-brow, silly, niche, or inane. (I have steadfastly ignored the Guilty Pleasure challenge.)
When I have spare time, I resolve sincerely to waste it. I'm going to read books I've read ten or twenty times before and watch films and TV shows that I already know line for line.
When I have a bubble bath, I'm going to soak myself chilly, and top it up with hot water at least once each time.
I am going to drink every cup of tea I make while it's fresh and hot. I will stand by the kettle while I make it, then sit and refuse to do other jobs until I have sipped it down to the dregs. Brewing tea is never a time for multitasking, much less drinking it. I know this in my bones; now I'll live by it. Break times will be sacrosanct.
I pledge to wear pyjamas a lot more often.
I am going to tell terrible jokes, and laugh raucously at them.
I'll give generously, including to myself. I'll send small gifts and handwritten notes to people I care about. I will make long phone calls about nothing to old friends.
I give myself permission to cut corners, to do the small but necessary jobs badly once in a while. Done really is better than perfect for most things.
I will make fewer plans.
I'll always scrape the bowl.
I fully intend to write really, really awful stories and poems that no one else will ever see. I'll paint for the sheer joy of painting, and not care what the finished picture will look like. I will sing badly, dance in my slippers around my kitchen and take photographs that are most definitely NOT instagram-worthy. I'll do crafts that will never go on etsy. I'll rediscover having hobbies that I'm not very good at, because the point of hobbies is to enjoy them.
I'll tell the people I love that I love them. I'll say and do all sorts of corny things, starting with this piece right here - and I'll do it just because I want to.
I'm going to find small things to enjoy, and milk every last drop of enjoyment from them. It might be the sheer heaven that is roast potatoes and gravy, or it might be satisfaction in a small task completed. I'm determined to find the voluptuousness of life, even in the unlikeliest corners, and soak it in, wherever I am. Maybe some of it will reflect it back to the world, but if not, I'll have sucked it dry anyway.
I'm going to ban myself from smiling insincerely.
I am committed to snuggling more often. I will dawdle. I will let myself be distracted by the shiny thing once in a while.
I will let my garden grow wild and ugly, and enjoy it from the window as the birds and insects reclaim it from me.
I'll plant things in a tiny little paradise on my windowsill, and get excited by tiny green shoots and spidery white roots.
I am supposed to conclude by saying that 2021 will be "my year", or subvert that by saying it definitely won't be, but I have let go of that expectation and am happier for it. But instead, I'm going for a nap.
Edit: Minor typo fixed (it's been bugging me for ages).
Thank you for reading!
This isn't my usual type of content. I prefer short fiction. If you'd like to see me have a go at that, here you go 👇