Last week I got told I should be using SPF on my hands. This suggestion almost tipped me over the edge: why is there so much stuff to do? Throughout every moment of every day?
The endless laundry list of tasks that modern life throws at us (especially us women) in our pursuit of supposed self-betterment is relentless and exhausting. Whether it’s eyebrow laminating, cold showers or yes, dousing your hands in sunscreen: that productivity wheel just keeps on spinning. (I blame Bezos.) That’s why I’ve used NSW’s lockdown to finally put my foot down. To opt out of hair masks and self-planners and any wishful thinking about 5am walks and gratitude journaling. Instead, I’m wearing leggings every day and rewatching shitty noughties disaster films. It’s been glorious.
So this is me giving you permission to do nothing productive with your life in lockdown this week, besides maybe calling your mum. (And if you’re not in lockdown, you’re off the hook too.) Think of the disaster films that await. The Mummy, anyone?