Like Sand Through the Hour Glass

Confession:

I did NOTHING today.

Why is it I pop out of bed rarin' to go in the morning, start in on tasks that I've imagined will magically transform my chaotic home into an abode worthy of a Southern Living photo-shoot, and then crash and burn within an hour?

Sigh.

Then I get distracted with emails. Always with the emails. The one that got me today was the "Due Date Notice" from the library.

Holy smokes! One of my books is due back Monday, and I hadn't even cracked the cover.

So, in the interest of being a civic-minded soul, I decided to read it today in order to get it back to the library on time so the next person in line can check it out.

Sadly, it wasn't worth the read, but I didn't find that out until three quarters of the way through. And because I'd so far invested, oh, four hours reading it, I felt the compulsion to at least find out what happens in the end. Ugh. It didn't get any better during the next hour.

All the more reason why I try to stick to non-fiction books and classics. I should really stay away from "My Totally Favorite Books!" lists on blogs. The blurbs always make the story sound incredible, yet I realize way too late that apparently my tastes and the other person's are diametrically opposed.

Anyway, I finished the darn book and will return it tomorrow, if for no other reason than to get it out of my house. My chaotic house that looks exactly the same, if not worse, tonight than it did in the bright light of this morning when I felt I could conquer all.

And I wonder how time passes by so quickly. I think it's my fault, and you can all blame me. Because if I'd stuck to mundane household chores, this day would have dragged on for hours longer than it seemed, and you all would have had much more time to get to the ends of your to-do lists.

Whoops.

Tomorrow. Yep, that's my out. Know why? IT'S ANOTHER DAY!

Whoo hoo! Let's go have the spaghetti my sweet honey made for dinner while his lazy wife lounged on the couch under a blanket and an orange cat, reading a ridiculously boring novel.