There are two groups I'd like to form in Auckland. The first is a choir for people like me who cannot sing a note in tune, but love nothing more than belting out a hearty anthem. The second will be based on a love of idleness and abhorrence for the new "busy" movement.
It's become this colossal competition - just how busy we are and how many activities we can pack into one day. Gone are the days when you multi-tasked by breastfeeding the baby while stirring the casserole and dictating some pressing correspondence.
Now you'd have skyping to China and speed texting thrown in as well. And the casserole would probably be in a trendy slow-cooker so you could get Melissa to ballet and Max to soccer before burping the baby. I believe all this frenetic activity is really detrimental to our lifestyle and definitely to our children.
A very experienced child-minder confided in me recently about how she hated Mondays. Most of us are not crazy about Monday mornings, but she loathed them because all her tiny charges were so exhausted after a mega "busy" weekend: "Some parents who have their children in care all week feel compelled to compensate on the weekend and the poor little blighters are dragged around every fun activity in town - only it's all too much and they're exhausted at the start of the week."
"Frenetic" is a word you hear often now and people hold it up like some badge of honour. I am not busy. I have some weeks when my work keeps me at my computer for long hours, but most of the time I'm not busy. I have a husband who operates well on about four hours sleep a night and is always extraordinarily busy. He has three mobile phones and is constantly skyping exotic places - loudly at ungodly hours of the night. So I'm not guilty about my "business hours" as I feel it brings balance to our family dynamics.
And apparently great inspiration often comes in idle moments and dreams. Way back then, Socrates warned: "Beware of the barrenness of a busy life." More recently Ruby Wax wrote on her blog (with the HuffPost UK): "There's such shame now if you're not keeping up with the next guy. I read about women who work 47 hours a day, have 13 children, know how to make a cupcake and jog at 3am ... Am I meant to feel guilty? These women should be exterminated - not held up as role models."
Three examples of extreme "busyness" have disturbed me over recent months. Twice I have seen local women of about my vintage (ie early 60s) treat hapless shop assistants really badly. These women both looked exhausted (obviously very busy) but don't Kiwis have a reputation as decent individuals who treat those in the service industry well? Busyness shouldn't be an excuse for rudeness.
Then I heard about a friend meeting another woman at a business function. They clicked. They had so much in common, chatted for hours and exchanged phone numbers. "No, I'm sorry I don't have the time to see you again, I'm just too busy for more friends in my life," the potential friend told my friend when she called. Surely making new friends is one of the supreme pleasures in life?
I have a friend who often walks the dog up Pigeon Mountain near Pakuranga, does two loads of washing and can write a cutting-edge article all before 8.30am. She's a great person but used to make me feel terribly guilty about my idle attitude. But then there's another friend who is deliciously idle, wonderfully liberal and independent, who gave me some precious advice. "Don't be guilty," she said. "Guilt is a futile emotion."
And so now I'm embracing my idle nature. Life is too short not to be fun and who cares about keeping up with the fiercely frenetic. Now I just have to sort out this choir ...
Robyn Yousef is an Auckland writer.