Got myself into a bit of a funk last night, talking to myself about the fantastic lives other people have managed to create for themselves. Look what she’s done, look what she’s done, and her and her and him. Oh, and meanwhile look what I’ve done…nothing…look at all the time I’ve spent faffing about on the internet and what have I got to show for it…nothing…what have you done with your life, what will people say at your funeral, who’ll even go to your funeral…blah, blah, blah…I’m good at talking myself down, and I can make myself feel quite rubbish about myself in an astonishingly small amount of time. If self-rubbishing were an Olympic sport, I’d be doing it for Australia and winning us gold.

The mister was in Dubai for the evening, so he couldn’t bore me with the things he’s said a million times before counsel me, so I had to look for an alternative way to lift myself out of this funk.

I know what I’ll do, I thought to myself, I’ll listen to one of those podcasts I’ve filed away for just such an occasion. So I shuffled through the gazillion podcasts I’ve downloaded but not yet listened to, and found, I thought, just the one. It was, for a while, a little bit excellent that podcast was. Try this, try that, have you thought about it this way, until…it came to the words, the ‘law of attraction’. I’m sure you’ve heard it. The idea that if you just think about it hard enough it will come to you.

Now, I agree that thinking good things about yourself is inherently better for your well-being than constantly telling yourself you’re an unlovely, unlovable waste of space – that’s why I was listening to this podcast in the first place – and I also agree it’s good to focus on your dreams and your goals and your aspirations. However, I am not a fan of this pseudo-scientific mumbo jumbo claptrap. It is not okay to speak about ‘attraction’ as if it were a scientific concept akin to ‘gravity’. I could tell you all the reasons I do not like it, but Barbara Ehrenreich already detailed every single thing I think on this particular matter in Smile or Die which I am, by coincidence, currently reading. I love that book, simply love it. A highly recommended read.

Not only am I not a fan of the law of attraction, the mere sound of the words can send me into a righteous rage. Which seems to have worked in my favour last night, because whatever else that rage did to me, it lifted me out of my funk and all of a sudden I was thinking, ‘Okay, well, you don’t have another book, but you could do another hour’s work now and you’ll be an hour closer to having another book.’

So, I opened up scrivener, and I looked in at the document targets and I tapped away until the little worm that measures the session targets had moved from the red to the orange to the green. I didn’t type any award-winning string of words, but gee I felt good when I went to bed, because while I might still be several gazillion hours away from having another book, that’s several gazillion hours minus one.

Apart from the kitchen. I was feeling a bit guilty about the kitchen, the cleanliness of which had been sacrificed for words. And as I went to bed, I knew that when the mister got home from Dubai he would clean it up even though he’d be exhausted. I was feeling bad about that. Not so bad that I couldn’t get to sleep, but still, pretty bad.

‘I’m sorry the kitchen was such a mess when you got home,’ I said to the mister this morning. ‘It was the kitchen or my mind,’ I said. ‘They both needed cleaning, and I couldn’t do them both.’

He didn’t say, ‘Oh, well, in that case, cleaning up that bombsite was a pleasure,’ but he did look a little less displeased. And then I said, ‘Which shirt do you want to wear today? I’ll iron it for you if you like.’ Which left him with the simple job of supervising the teeth cleaning.