I have no holidays booked.
I've not applied for any days off work, even though I could, and even though the rest of my team has their entire spring and summer mapped out.
I was going to take the entire bank holiday week at the end of May off work, but not for any particular reason, and then stuff came up so I can't.
I haven't pencilled in any "holiday" weeks in the summer, because I don't usually go away anywhere, I just play it by ear.
I am, obviously, going back to see my family in Norfolk sometime, but we don't have any dates selected.
I don't have anything planned outside work, like anything at all.
I did have an outpatients appointment booked next year, except they cancelled it.
I ought to book a doctor's appointment, some time, nothing urgent, but I haven't.
I don't have one of those little cards from the dentist or optician with a time and date for my next regular check-up.
I don't have a significant other, nor any dependants, so I don't need to plan my life around theirs.
I'll probably see Best Mate sometime next week, although that's not guaranteed and we haven't planned anything.
I don't have any meet-ups scheduled with any of my other friends, few as they are, neither are we edging towards arranging anything by email.
I've not got any seats booked at a restaurant, nor at the theatre, nor at the cinema.
I don't have any tickets booked to any gigs, events, experiences, Olympic Games, whatever.
I haven't bought any advance train tickets in the expectation of going somewhere interestingly long distance on the cheap.
I have no regular weekday evening activities, like some hobby-based group or volunteering-thing or post-work with-colleagues beer-quaffing gathering.
I have no idea what I'm doing this weekend, or next, or next, or next, etc etc, not until Saturday arrives and I think "yeah, well, I suppose I could do that".
I don't currently have a shortlist of must-visit, must-blog places and events to write-up.
I do have a full-time job, so my time's not entirely empty.
I presume Christmas is sorted, but other than that, my diary is entirely blank.
I'm not complaining, it's nice to have the freedom to organise my future how I like.
It's not an uncomfortable situation, indeed it's bursting with opportunity.
I could tie myself down a little more, but I don't, and so I've somehow ended up in an entirely un-tied down situation.
It strikes me that this level of total unplannedness is rather unusual.