It's a gloomy, rainy, overcast day here in the East--the kind of day that, no matter what time it is, it always feels like early morning. Days like this make me feel incredibly sluggish and sleepy. I'm completely uninterested in doing anything but curling up under one of my sister's hand-knitted afghans with a good book and a cup of tea, reading and dozing at my leisure.
An activity I must admit, I did indulge, but not before getting some work out of the way so I wouldn't feel like a total dilettante. Being an independent has its ups and downs: you work for yourself, so you get to pretty much dictate what hours you work and what your schedule will be. That's nice. I can work in my pyjamas if I want to and no one is the wiser.
The down side is, I'm my own boss.
I also have to make sure I stay disciplined enough not to bog down in a slovenly, self-gratifying morass of laziness. Which is hard for me, because I really am fundamentally incredibly lazy. But since I'm on my own, no one else is going to set times for me and tell me when I have to work--that's my responsibility. If I don't do it and stick with it, I don't get paid. Simple as that.
But Ohhhh, it was so tempting when I woke up this morning, to give in to the urge to get a ginormous mug of fresh, steaming coffee, tuck up under that afghan, and dive into the stack of books I just got from the library. Had the devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Devil was whingeing, But it's Friday! You don't have any appointments, and no deadlines. What's one morning going to hurt? You can make it up over the weekend---knowing damn good and well that I probably won't make it up over the weekend at all--I've got too much housework to do, and besides that, weekends are the only time I can legitimately lay claim to my indulgences without guilt. The Angel was, ironically, the one who had to be the bad guy--cracking the whip and telling me to get off my ass and get to work.
Both of them annoy me.