I was supposed to go to a meeting yesterday - and I did not go.
The meeting itself was not important but it would have been short enough for me to get on with the business of sorting out the library for the knitters at it. I have been trying to get to this for some time but there have been some genuine interruptions at meetings and some unwanted interference as well. It was well intended but the result has been a lot more work for me.
When I made the decision not to go it was raining, windy and decidedly chilly. By mid-afternoon it was blue-ish sky and a bit of sunshine. I should have been there. I should have been fulfilling my responsibilities. I was not.
I did go out - briefly - and collect some more milk. Dad has been having hot milk drinks before going to bed lately and we were in danger of running short before the end of the weekend. I felt guilty pedalling up to the supermarket when I should have been pedalling four times that distance to the meeting.
When I came home I, even more guiltily, took some time out and knitted a couple of rounds on the complex Shetland shawl. My excuse was that I needed to fix the mistake. I still felt guilty. There is housework that needs doing -although I had done the ironing by then - and other work that needs to be done. Knitting is supposed to be fun stuff for when all the work is done.
Other people seem to get in a lot more knitting - and television watching as they do it - than I do. They go on holiday. I am never sure how they find the time. I am not tidy (neither is my father) but I am reasonably well organised. I know what needs to be done and, unless something goes drastically wrong, I get things done in time. I try to plan ahead, especially for things like meals and work responsibilities. Things get done. Things get done. Things get done!
So, why in the heck do I feel guilty about taking time out occasionally?