The High Cost of Having too much Fun

 I had a rather hectically relaxing weekend and I am now paying the price of doing no planning in the weekend.

Warning to fellow teachers: If you do not do your planning and marking during the weekend, you have a rather nasty Monday.

However, I can at least feel comforted in the fact the all the toil that I am currently avoiding (blogging is my new favourite form of procrastination!), is a result of much fun and activity rather than being wretchedly sick for the whole weekend as is the case with one of my fellow English teachers.

I have come to realise that at the ripe old age of 25, I am really only capable of enjoying most things in small doses (chocolate and sleep being the main two exceptions).

While it is fun to spend a couple of days going places, doing things and generally running around being busy, I’m not really up to doing it very often. My body is aching with exhaustion. It is simply not up the fast-paced, action-packed pursuit of fun I put it through this weekend.

Too much driving, too much walking, too much delicious food, too many activities, not enough sleep.

I remember as a child being devastated when the fun and action stopped – no matter how much fun I had had, I desperately wanted it to keep going. My joy at birthday parties would always crumple when I realised that my friends had to leave. That all the cake, games and presents were inevitably coming to an end.

Now, like a deflated old foggy, I’m secretly relieved when visitors leave and I can sit down and not do anything. No matter how much you love spending time with your friends and family, and how much fun you have doing things together, I really love the time when the house is empty and calm, and I’m left alone with nothing and no one but Matt and the cat.

Peace and doing nothing is sometimes the most fun thing on Earth.