ah. holidays.

people usually ask "are you going away somewhere?"

while i admit i have a somewhat misguided passion for travel, the answer is mostly "no".

but being at home the last couple of days, post-christmas, post-shopping-blitz-trauma, post-stressful-running-around-december-nightmare, i've been having a lovely time doing...nothing. well, not nothing exactly, but nothing i am required to do.

reading is a huge luxury, i find. i tend to read late at night in bed mostly, so hiding away in a quiet spot with a book in the middle of the day is a great indulgence. everything has to stop, i need to devote myself entirely to the book at hand (or else i read each paragraph five times and still retain nothing).

pottering is another underrated indulgence. getting up late. reading the paper. roaming around the house. tinkering on the piano. making ice cream. rearranging furniture (don't ask me why, but it's some sort of therapy, i'm sure of it). having vague flashes of inspiration and actually letting them unspool in my mind.

one more week of nothingness. bliss.