It's not usually a good sign when I'm eating bags of potato chips for dinner.
I mean, sometimes it is because I'm feeling decadent and it gives me a good luxurious feeling.
But probably not when it's coupled by feeling unproductive. Actually, let's go back and start this with THAT little tidbit. It's not a good sign when I'm feeling unproductive.
I really, really like being productive. I love DOING things. And right now, I don't really want to do anything. Not at work, not at home. I don't want to pack for my weekend away in Southampton. I don't want to clean up the pile of garbage beside my computer, even though it only means walking it to the recycling bin about 10 steps away.
I don't want to do anything from my to-do list. Like call my neighbour about the chimney and the fence and the gutters. Like learn about insulation. Like pick out a colour for paint that I won from EcoPaint (very cool, actually; I won it by tweeting).
Generally, I love this stuff.
But right now, I want to sit in front of my computer and write about how I'm eating greasy chips with dip (finishing off the whole bag, actually) and feeling lousy. And then I want to eat the last bit of rhubarb crisp that I made (perhaps warmed up with vanilla ice cream). And then I want to fall into bed without brushing my teeth or taking off my makeup. And don't even get me started on how much I don't want to go to work tomorrow to work on the ridiculous mound of stuff there, either. I'd be pretty happy to just sit in front of my computer all day tomorrow (actually, I really want to be reading my House & Home that just came in but I'm saving it for this weekend).
Because I just don't want to do anything.
No comments:
Post a Comment