I can’t do it today. I just can’t. I woke up this morning still feeling exhausted and just the thought of repeating the stress of yesterday was more than I could handle. So, I’m staying home today and you know what? I feel a hell of a lot better without the weight of the outside world on me. I may be feeling down and sickly but here in my own home all alone it isn’t so bad.


I should have spent the day resting, or even writing if I really wanted to get something done but instead I cleaned the house. Cleaning, after all, is the most satisfying kind of procrastination and I had hours and hours for it today. What makes it so insidious is how hard it is to regret. How can I feel bad when everything around me is so organized now? It’s a space clear enough to think in, to write in, but now I’m too tired.

And tonight I’m miserable again and tomorrow I will be too but I have to go back to work. Resting time is over and I wasted it, but for now the house is clean, my wife is home, and having at least that means everything.