I must be a poor time manager.
I constantly find myself struggling to fit all my nice-to-dos into the hours I'm allocated.
Other people seem to cope just fine -
They have normal lives; work 9-12 hours, have dinner with friends/partner, watch movies, go to the gym, catch most episodes of Desperate Housewives.
And I, well,
I whinge about not having enough alone time.
Yet I find it hard to explain where all my time has gone.
I don't work long hours (not anymore anyway, since I decided to resign. In fact, the boss now asks if I'm alright when I stay past 6.45). I don't have a gym membership, and don't go shopping on weekdays. I don't watch TV, and certainly don't take French lessons.
I need to nab the time bandit.
*
This weekend felt a little like my pre-Singapore routine.
Saturday brunch (Corduroy & Finch - great cafe/deli concept, painfully slow service, food completely overrated) to catch up on previous night's stories and wash out the last traces of alcohol with freshly squeezed juice and black coffee; then easy shopping with girlfriends; half a dinner; and another jeans-and-little-top night out; Sunday morning banter in the kitchen; afternoon cocktails; early onset of Monday blues.
I felt particularly accomplished this weekend. Perhaps because I had time to sew (oh lordy) and speak to the plumber about the clogged up toilet.
And I now realise that busy weekends are good for you.
*