Most afternoons after I get home for work — as soon as I say hello to the cat — I “rest” for a little while. The only exceptions I can think of are afternoons where I have to cut the yard because I’ve waited *way* too long to do so, and when I know I have to leave in a few minutes to go somewhere.
Now here’s what I mean by “rest.” When I rest, it means my butt goes on the couch with the tv on low volume and I start playing on my notebook computer. And by “a little while” I mean until I go to bed. Occasionally, like last night, I do actually do a little house cleaning, but usually stuff like that gets saved for the weekend. If I end up doing something with friends or going out of town on the weekend that procrastination gets pushed back until the next weekend, and so forth and so on.
This “process” is evident by the State of My House meter, which right now looks like somewhere in between a total nuclear meltdown and my Halo character after Nick has shot me with a rocket launcher.
I’m torn between this resting and actually doing something productive like rewiring my phone system in my house (that’s another story for another day [that day being called Not Going To Go There Day]). But after eight hours of work, and a total of fifty minutes driving time, does a person really want to spend the remaining three to four hours of their day working at home?
