Spring cleaning is good for the soul...

It's amazing sometimes how the simplest things can make such a difference. I've been stuck in a bit of a rut at work of late - of my own doing, mostly. My inbox is constantly full of red-flagged items and consequently I never seem to have the time to complete all those niggling little tasks I know I really should otherwise they'll build up. Hence the high towering piles of paper, newspapers and boxes of print that have taken over my desk and threaten to eat me. No joke. The towers were so high they swayed like an unstable jelly whenever anyone walked past. But no more! Oh no. There is a new me in the office. And it's all because the whole office is having a reshuffle and we've all been forced into a long-overdue clear out.

I now actually sit with people I work with, with a very tidy desk - both are firsts for me. With a window and everything. Amazing. The Other Half bought me a little purple-flowered plant to adorn the windowsill as I've harped on so much about having said window and being able to see daylight in the office for a change. And who'd have thought that moving desks could work such wonders for your productivity? I feel super-organised. (The extra added brilliantness of it all, is that I'm now nestled in the corner and have angled my computer screen in such a manner that nobody can see when I'm not feeling as hyper-efficient, and am actually cruising Digital Spy for gossip.)

The downside to this new-found tidiness is I've unleashed a stationery monster from within, and I didn't even know I had one. I had no idea that a whole world of matching files and storage boxes, neon post-its and coordinating kitsch desk items existed. Well, I did - but I've never had the space for them. Similarly, my sister has made me little odds and ends like Mome Raths out of pipe cleaners, little origami birds etc over the years which now have pride of place on my brand-spanking new workspace. However, I am now addicted to Pulpshop and Totally Funky. This must stop, I'm scaring myself.

I have a bandage and I'm not afraid to use it...

Today, I'm feeling quite proud of myself. Small things. And I know anyone can do it, and it's not a big deal or anything, but I do feel like I've accomplished something of a personal goal. For as of this fine afternoon, I am a newly qualified first aider at work. Yes - be afraid, be very afraid. This week has been fun, actually. I wasn't expecting it to be quite so entertaining. There's the added bonus of being out of the office for almost a week (woohoo!), and the fact that you are learning a new skill...but it's been most amusing taking my blood and bandages homework home with me to practice slings on my bemused Other Half and swap horror stories with my fellow trainees and our teacher.

Here's hoping I never actually have an emergency to contend with, though. Blood I can cope with. Sticking my finger in my eye, no problem. Nailed the correct manner to dress a wound with a foreign body in it. Protruding bones through skin, however - well, you can keep those, thank you very much. My class have had to sit through some truly horrendous videos this week - burns, falls, chemical spills, spurting arteries, the works...but the only things to truly turn my stomach were the photos of footballers with snapped tibia bones jutting out their pointing-the-wrong-way legs. Hurltastic.

In true me-style, though, this week has not been free from catastrophe. Did you really expect it to be? Of course not. Monday morning, I left the house in a hurry. It was washing day and all my jeans were in the laundry basket, so I shoved on my denim skirt without thinking too much of it. Only to get into my course and realise with a jolt of horror that we'd all be role playing and practicing exactly what to do in various emergencies. Yep, you guessed it. There I was in the middle of a room full of strangers, demonstrating the recovery position and flashing my polka-dot kecks to all and sundry.

At least I was wearing tights, I suppose. And knickers. It would have been far worse if not.

New year, new resolutions...

I found a list of ten things in an old notebook from last New Year's Day which I promised myself I would complete in 2008. I've been able to tick one of them off. ONE. How depressing. And that one thing was to start a blog. At least I've kept it up, I suppose. So, this year, I hope I'm setting myself achievable targets and the fact that I've written them down publicly should mean they're easier to track (and have people bug me about).

1. To cook something new each week. I love tinkering in the kitchen, and am now armed with an head full of ideas thanks to all my recipe books from Christmas, so in theory this shouldn't be too hard. Famous last words.
2. Keep in touch better with all my friends and family. I'm rubbish at it in general. Facebook is good for getting an overview of what everyone is doing, but it's no substitute for the real thing. This year I promise to meet up with people more.
3. Eat healthier. No dieting (yeech, if ever there was a surefire way to put on weight, it's to mention the 'd' word), just eating better in general and taking lunches to work etc. instead of slinking off to the cafe every day and spending a fortune in the process.
4. Decorate my bedroom. We've lived in this house for well over a year now, and things are starting to feel more like home. The living room certainly does since we've redecorated. However, the bedroom does not. I am not a beige person and this needs to be rectified.
5. Make more of an effort with clothes. I always feel like a grotty student at work (even though I haven't been one for three years now) and need to invest in nicer work apparel. I feel the need for some posh shoes and underwear too. the only trouble is, I hate shopping.
6. Get organised. I have no idea what's in some of my cupboards at home. Likewise I have a lot of crap that I could pack off to a car boot sale/charity shop. Also, if I'm organised in my home - it might rub off in my life. I am constantly late for everything and it sickens me!
7. Enjoy Sundays. Instead of whinging about how boring they are and setting myself up with horrible Sunday night feelings before work on a Monday - actually do more with them. Spend some time with The Other Half. Go out for walks. Do things. Go new places.
   
8. Join in with something. Start a course - maybe pick up a language I left after GCSE, or do sign language. Or first aid. Anything. Take up a hobby or find more time for the hobbies I do have but never get around to. I feel this might be a good way to ease stress, too.
   
9. Write my ideas down. My head is jam-packed with ideas for all sorts of things like trivia books, short stories, full novels - but they're all jumbled up. I need to have a notebook on me at all time to write down weird dreams, funny turns of phrase, anecdotes and the like.
10. Read more. I've been better at this over the last year - I'm getting into a routine of reading a little bit each night. I also want to start a marathon movie-watching session with The Other Half - doing the A-Z of our DVD collection. That could take all year.
    

And there you have it. Achievable, I think. At least I don't have to wean myself off anything horrible like cigarettes...although weaning yourself of Christmas chocolate is a bummer.