Itís tempting, on the day before the holiday, to take it a little easy. If I didnít know what I was up against this month, I probably would. After all, nothing I do today will get into the mail until Thursday anyway, and that gives me all day tomorrow to do it, if by some chance I should find something better to do today. Like take an extra nap, for example, or read a few extra chapters.
Besides, itís too hot. I donít know how hot it is, but the sweat index is at about 98 percent. I donít mind the heat, as long as I donít have to do anything in it. The trouble is, it might be hotter tomorrow. And besides, tomorrow really is the holiday, and itís going to take more motivation than Iím likely to muster to get any work done, deadlines or no deadlines.
On the other hand (and isnít there always another hand?), Iím kind of looking forward to getting some work done without the phone ringing all day tomorrow. With luck, even the telemarketers will take the day off, and I wonít even have to ignore phone calls, much less answer them. I had a little of that today, and it was nice. Oh, the telemarketers were out in force, and forcefully ignored, but the Boss was on the road, driven by his ex-wife to his latest doctor appointment. Ah, the sweet silence.
So what did I end up doing today? Well, I worked, but I went about it so very slowly that I might as well have taken the day off. Or half the day, at least, because I didnít get more than half a dayís work done, even though I worked all day. Sometimes my first instinct is the one to rely on, I guess. Should have napped, should have read, because now Iíll have to work tomorrow anyway.