While trying to ensure that I didn't wake Mark at some crazy-early hour this morning, I insomniac-ly snuck out of bed, felt about for my phone on the bookshelf and . . . no phone. Rather than putting on a light and thus really waking him, I went downstairs . . . without . . . the phone. As someone who likes a good rant about everyone being stuck to their screens it was a sobering moment to realise that I am fairly, or greatly- possibly, addicted too. I made tea and ignored the urge to go back upstairs and hunt about for it, instead, sat down with mug and a book I had scanned through off and on but had always been distracted by, not just the phone, but jobs and life generally.
Book in question is a marvellous compendium of David Sedaris's diaries. Marvellous in that it's his work, but also the putting together of it with intriguing diary pages inserted into the main book. Three-quarters of an hour of inspiring reading and observation which has already had an influence, no -hate that word - a resonance in/within/around me and my ensuing work; rather than said amount of time used in staring at weird phishing emails, and gawping at someone working out with a chicken/singing dog/ferret in barbi outfit, etc on procrastination-o-gram. Thank you Nick for buying me the book and lugging it all the way from the UK - big tome!
