Yesterday was Day One of my mid-week weekend.

I didn’t have much planned for the day, which is quite unlike me as I like to feel as if I’m utilising my time as efficiently and with as much purpose as I can jam into it. Notice, I said I like to FEEL as if I’m being efficient and purposeful. Feeling as if you’re going something like that is quite subjective, really. And when you have a mind that tips over to delusion as easy as mine does, it’s highly possible to think you’re being efficient and purposeful when you’re actually just, in the long scheme of things, dicking around and wasting time on meaningless pursuits.

Something I struggle with as a list maker and diary keeper, is living in the moment. I mean, I’m a Capricorn, and in magazines the archetype for someone with that star sign is a ball-busting career woman with a blazer, a Blackberry and briefcase full of broken hearts. And whether or not you believe in the precises science of astrology, I do really quite like that image of me. I like being the before woman in romantic comedies who is powerful, successful and gets shit done. I like her neuroses and her drive and her well-styled apartment. However, every Before Life-Changing Standard-Lowering Romance woman has her flaws and mine is being present. I find myself thinking about the next thing I have to do, or internally berating myself for not doing the things I should be doing.

Sometimes, I set there and just waste time scrolling through my phone, mindlessly switching between apps because I’m so stressed about wasting time, when a good use of my time would actually be to spend half an hour strolling outside or having a nap or literally anything that will calm me the fuck down.

I’m trying to work on relaxing myself just a wee bit, or at least reframing the way I think about the ways that I spend my time so don’t stress myself into a dramatic breakdown at work – although, that always seems to be a catalyst of hijinks and eventual success in the movies, so I tell myself it wouldn’t be the end of the world if I did have a very public meltdown. And part of this has a lot to do with doing a bit more nothing, but with purpose. It’s about attaching meaning to activities I used to consider pointless.

So, something like going for a walk, for example, seemed like an inefficient use of my time. I mean, I’d be better off jogging because I’d burn more calories and get to where I needed to go faster. But yesterday, when I found my morning schedule wide open, I went for a walk. I ended up finally having a chai at that cafe along the route in the park where active mums go to meet up with their active mum mates. And it was lovely. I got a bit of fresh air. I soaked up some sunshine. I didn’t have that feeling of a dozens of little anxiety bouncy balls jumping around in around in my guts.

I came back from my walk deciding to try spending the rest of the day without plans. I mean, I had plans that evening to meet up with a sister at the gym, but  about five hours of free time without a to-do list is pretty significant.

I miraculously found myself feeling like I had not wasted my day. I felt like I actually achieved something. And now that intro that was much, much lengthier and emotionally revealing as I thought  is out of the way, here are the three things that felt like accomplishments for me yesterday:

Trying a Tunnock Teacake:I saw these in my general news consumption over the weekend, because the bloke who invented them was given a Queen’s Birthday Honour. There was a lot of fanfare about it because these things are like the Scottish cultural equivalent to a Tim Tam or an Iced Vovo. They have a cult-like status among the Scots, I read, so I imagine they’re the things people put in care packages for Scots aboard, much like Australians would chuck in a packet of Tim Tams for homesick Aussies who, not like I’m trying to start something or anything, but probably wouldn’t eat them in their day-to-day life. They’re not actually teacakes, but marshmallows on biscuits covered in chocolate – here, the literal equivalent would be an Arnotts Royal, without the jam. I found myself on a deep, Tunnock Teacake dive and told myself that if I ever came face-to-face with one, I’d try it.

I thought this would take me to Scotland, however, I only had to go as far as my local supermarket, which stocks a handful of international products. I bought a box of the prized chockies while dashing out for some groceries yesterday as my chicken fingers cooked in the oven.

I ate two while watching Gavin and Stacey (yes, that’s an ode to Wales, not Scotland but I’ve kin fog gone off Outlander) and I bloody loved them.

Would recommend.

Watching two episodes of Big Little Lies: Now that Game of Thronesis officially done, I want to have another show to keep up with. One of those is The Handmaid’s Tale, but a lot of people in my office seem to be talking about Big Little Lies too. Plus, I bloody love me some Nicole Kidman. So I’ve decided to start watching it but I feel like binging TV shows isn’t great for you. You don’t have time to sit and ponder what’s going to happen next. There’s no time to process what happened before the credit rolled. And you generally tend to find yourself mildly dazed and disconnected when you’ve finally finished.

I feel like it’s eating a family-sized bag of chips to yourself; it sounds amazing, but in practice you find you don’t even really enjoy the chips at the end as you shovel them into your gob. You get the most delight out of them when you eat slowly, perhaps breaking them apart along the crinkles or pretending to be Mikko from Pocahontasin that scene where he eats John Smith’s biscuits. It’s just more enjoyable in the long run if you don’t watch all in one hit. So I try to keep myself to a double episodes limit, three episodes at the most.

Finished the jar of pickles that was in my fridge for aaaaaages:I’m not a fan of clutter, I hate waste and I’m moving out of my place in about six weeks. So I want to get through all the stuff I have stored in the fridge and pantry, but to actually use it instead of just throwing it out. So yesterday, when I chowed my way through a whole jar of mini pickles – partly as an accompaniment to my chicken fingers, partly as snack food while watching my stories – it felt like a real achievement. Not only is the jar empty and out of my fridge, but it is now freed up to hold other things – homemade stock, soil for a succulent, dreams, etc. Unfortunately, I discovered that hummus does go bad and I had to chuck out some chickpea slop that tasted like carpet underlay, which was disappointing, but at least there’s a bit more space in the fridge now. I’m suddenly inspired to get through the cranberry sauce that I bought at Christmas time. Perhaps some oaten cran-jam drops might be just the ticket. Watch this space.