Two Weeks Of Nothing
It occured to me today that Ted has now spent the whole of the last two weeks doing precisely nothing. Obviously I knew before he set off on his retreat that the plan was to do the aforementioned nothing, but I guess it didn’t really hit home quite how much nothing that was until I considered everything I’d done in the last two weeks. I had a birthday party, I got tattoos, I saw a gig, I went floating, I went out for dinner multiple times, I similarly went to the pub multiple times, I’ve run, I’ve worked, I’ve watched movies, I’ve read books, and I’ve been on dates with the girl I’m dating. I’ve even grown something that is now at least recongizeable as a moustache.
That’s so much life that I’ve managed to squeeze into a fortnight. When he embarked onto his journey into the void, I said I was jealous, but actually I’m pretty glad that I got to have these two weeks of my life instead of a whole lot of sitting in silence.