It’s a nice idea, booking a hotel suite, intending to stay an entire weekend. Doing. Absolutely. Nothing. After a few minutes, it starts. Barely a whisper, it flits around my mind. I shoo it away. But it persists. It doesn’t listen, and the nagging begins. My fingers drum the table, I flip channels, surfing from show to a movie, to the inevitable reruns. I’m not interested. I walk to the window, surveying the grand view, watch the people rushing on the street below me. In this room and the walls constrict, triggering my claustrophobia.
I can’t do “nothing” for an extended period. I am impatient. I need activity, physical action, a project to occupy my mind and exercise for my fidgety fingers. There’s a saying which connects the devil with idle hands. Whatever the cause, I must do something. It is what relaxes me and keeps me sane.
How do you unwind?
Keep on writing.
Jo Hawk The Writer