I try and make it worth my while when it comes to blogging. I feel that I, and you as a reader, deserve a little more than a hastily put together post that's not really about anything. Apart from anything those kinds of posts make it difficult for people to comment on and comments are the bloggy-air that I breathe to keep me going.
In the beginning...
I am pleased he's finished though, not only has he made me feel a little invigorated at the prospect of actually crossing something off my list, it's encouraged me to get on with the other things that are on there. I really am trying to complete these resolutions, not just fanny about and say I'm going to do it (although please please please don't hold me to that reading 12 classics in a year thing ok?!). Plus it seriously has kept the boredom at bay, I've found myself this January with a couple of weekends with nothing planned at all, whilst I know that I should rejoice in that and most people would relish the idea, for me it fills me with a little dread. One of my greatest fears in life is that I'm wasting time.
Without wishing to sound like a total twat, time on earth is limited and I would hate to get to the end of my days and be faced with an endless parade of time spent not doing anything, wasting my life away just sat in front of the tv or in bed. If I'm doing either of those things I'll be doing something productive as well, whether it's reading or cross-stitching or crocheting - they're not big things but I absolutely cannot be idle, it drives me round the bend.
You see this is what happens when I blog without purpose. They end up strange and rambly and appear to be about plastic toads but are actually about the meaning of life.
Thanks Mr Toad.
...And now all finished.