It has been said on several occasions that I am full of it. Helpful and sensible advice, that is.
If you need to be told to take it easy, to cut yourself some slack, not to try and do a zillion things at once and give up on the idea of attempting to build Rome in a day, then I’m the person to tell you exactly that. Often.
I regularly throw this advice at people in an it’s-so-obvious-I-could-be-a-therapist kind of way. I’m very good at doing that, in fact.
Shame I didn’t take any of my own advice then.
Shame I didn’t listen to the little voice that said you’ll keel over in a heap if you speed along at one hundred miles an hour without pausing for breath. That’ll you’ll have a mini-meltdown when a cinema trip to Disney’s Tangled ends prematurely because you didn’t read the reviews, and didn’t know about the dark bits that one little girl would not be able to cope with, so you'd have to leave. That exhaustion will kick in, take over and render you worse than useless.
So on doctor’s orders I’m resting up, recuperating and finding my feet again ready to carry on in a less frantic manner.
Because not everything has to be done in a day.
I'm planning to build Rome in two. Tomorrow.
So next time I spout out advice to people, feel free to clout me around the head and suggest I put my feet up for a while.
Cheers!
