I think 70% of this weekend was spent underneath a duvet. As unglamorous as it may be to admit this, it’s true. I ate so much chocolate, I think I’ve got RSI from unwrapping the endless arrays of Blue Ribands. I ate, read and watched TV all from the comfort of my duvet and generally indulged in self-loathing for not having Saba Douglas-Hamilton’s life. I was even reduced to watching Deal or No Deal, which is kind of like watching a tooth get extracted but just drawn out over an hour.

And yet, when I told myself ‘You need a bigger bag’ as I stepped out this morning, I replied with: No, I need a smaller life.

Why is it that even when I spent a weekend just resting, this sentiment rang true? Endless surveys tell us ‘young professionals’ that we work too hard, play too hard and that we will burn ourselves out before we reach 30. I’m beginning to wonder if what they say is true. Don’t get me wrong, I think of myself as a relatively well-balanced individual... Ok, scratch that. I don’t think I’m a whole lot more screwed up than the average person; I have plenty of drive, ambition, determination and all those wonderful and amazing things that make the iPod generation, the iPod generation but at times I wonder if we should just step on the brakes once in a while, just to stop ourselves from spinning.


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