I’ve completed a full 24 hours without Twitter or Facebook. 24 long, tedious hours. It was ok to begin with – liberating even. And then came the 3.30pm crash, traditionally the time when my brain slows down to the point that writing becomes impossible and Facebook calls. Without having my favourite waste of time available, I had to find something else to amuse me.
Having said that, it was a revelation to wake this morning after a night on the town, and be fairly confident that at no point did I post ridiculous Twitter updates about how much I loved the person I was with/Nick Cave/London/the bus driver.
And there’s more good news! The internet is a less whingey place. I’m sick today (poorly, *not* hungover, just to clarify), and traditionally that would result in hourly updates into the exact number of pills I’ve popped, what it feels like my head is full of (cotton wool, since you ask) and whether I’m going to make it through the day. Today? The only person subjected to that is you, and My Chemical Toilet’s Stuart, who has the pleasure of sitting opposite me.
Only four more days to go. Days that would be made a lot easier if I stopped getting emails about Facebook event invitations, if people stopped tagging me in photos and if Outwit would stop just magically reinstalling itself on my Outlook toolbar. Onwards and upwards.