An argument for staying home and doing nothing.
It was Saturday morning a few weeks ago when I got a call from a friend.
“Come to the beach! Come over! Let’s do something.”
“Nahhh,” I said. “I really, really don’t want to do anything today.”
I have something like this conversation with someone every weekend. Or weeknight. Or holiday. And my answer rarely changes. It would be sad, except it’s not.
I’m in my twenties – the prime of my life, you could say – and my absolute favourite thing to do with my time is… nothing.
It’s not because I’m lazy. It’s not because I’m sad or angry or unhappy in any way. In fact, I’m most excited if I know I have no plans for the following day.
I just really love to do nothing.
Read more: “The thought of being out past midnight makes me want to vomit.”
Reading a great book on my couch. Sleeping in. Watching a trashy rom-com. Taking a three-hour afternoon nap. Having a deliciously long bath. Not getting out of my pyjamas. Not putting on make up. Just. Doing. Nothing.
For those of you who set an early alarm on a Saturday just so you don’t waste any precious moment of your weekend, you probably feel a bit sorry for me.
But you know what? I feel sorry for you.