Originally published by The Clifton Courier, March 6, 2019

“Nothing” is a word that means so much more than just “no single thing”.

For example, if you were to ask me what I did on Saturday night, I’d probably say “nothing”.

I didn’t plan anything for the night, which is supposed to be the pinnacle of excitement for a working adult. I realised this when I walked in the door on Saturday afternoon with some new pots, a stylish watering can and a second-hand school desk I plan on restoring (if anyone has a power sander I could borrow, please let me know – I’ll pay you in non-award-winning gingerbread).

I had nothing planned, but “nothing” was not what I did.

I mean, no one is ever doing nothing. If you’re lying in bed, your body is still respiring, at the very least. Even if you’re dead, you’re not really doing nothing; technically, you’re disintegrating. That’s not a particularly active pursuit, but something is still happening.

“Nothing” is just shorthand for “not a single thing of interest”. But it’s unfair for me to decide what is of interest to you, so I’m going to list what I actually did on Saturday night and let you decide for yourself:

Planned a social media post about a custard apple I bought that day: I’ve always wanted to try a custard apple. Growing up, apples were staples, bananas showed up occasionally and strawberries were a treat. Heck, even a pear was exotic – I didn’t have my first pear until I was well into adulthood. So I wanted to announce to the world that I had brought a custard apple into my home and, let’s be honest, I was craving the dopamine hit of online validation from people I barely know.

Researched custard apples: Once I had the custard apple in my custody (sorry, couldn’t help myself), I didn’t know what my next step was, so I did a bit of digging online. I learned from the leading custard apple body of Australia that you’re supposed to wait for it to soften, like an avocado. So I had to let it sit.

Contemplated the custard apple: It cut quite a striking figure on my desk and I have a tendency to stare off into space and lose all concept of time and place. Who knows how long I was lost in the bright green abyss?

Invented a new afternoon tea treat: I’ve done it again. I’ve taken a baked item that tastes delightful as it is and bastardised it with healthy intentions, a food processor and a craptonne of oats. This time my victim was the humble pumpkin scone, which I defiled by using ground oats instead of flour. Naturally, you’ll be forced to endure the “recipe” in the near future.

Attempting to lure friends over with these pumpkiny abominations: I put a fresh-out-of-the-oven picture of them on Instagram thinking my mates would take up my offer and pop around for a very late afternoon tea. I had no takers.

Loaded the dishwasher: I was home alone and could load that bad boy the way I’ve always wanted. It was bliss.

Questioned who I’ve become: This wasn’t a Saturday specific-activity, it’s now part of my regular bedtime routine.