Why is it that I can spend all day at work thinking of things that I’d rather be doing at home, write extensive lists of all the things that I should or could be doing, then get home and have absolutely NO motivation to do any of it.
When you are at work, cleaning up dog poo is more appealing than sitting in an office. I can be so productive thinking of lists of things that I have to do when I’m at work, then sit and stare at that list when I get home and find no motivation to do any of the things that seemed like a good idea, or needed to do. This means that the list continues to grow, which leads me into a whole panic because now I have this big list of things to do that I’m not motivated to do.
Sometimes I take the coward way out and just cross the stuff off, deeming it not essential to the continuance of life. Some of the things are stupid things and don’t really need to be done, or don’t actually need to be put on a list. Laundry, for example. You always have to do laundry, so why bother putting it on a list. Dishes, the same thing, there’s always dishes. Sometimes I think of the whole futility of housework. It never ends.
Ok, so its really hard to rant when you’re watching Eddie Murphy “Delirious” on Youtube while you are trying to rant.
I hadn’t seen that in a zillion years, and by coincidence, something happened that made me look on youtube to see if they had it. Here’s the coincidence:
I read on someone’s blog about the Black Friday stampedes and there was a link to a video where some poor older woman got knocked down in the stampede and she lost her wig. I sent the link to some friends, one of which responded: “Oh lawdy, lawdy, I’m falling down the stairs... my wig”.
That made me go to Youtube and sure enough, some kind soul had uploaded the whole thing in sections. Now I’m watching it again, and you know what... STILL FREAKING FUNNY!
Ok, so I can’t even begin to rant about how I’m obsessive compulsive about writing lists of things to do that I never get around to doing, then feel like a failure because I don’t do the things that I write on my list.
Thanks Mr. Murphy (I don’t know you well enough to call you Eddie) for making me forget that I’m a failure.
When you are at work, cleaning up dog poo is more appealing than sitting in an office. I can be so productive thinking of lists of things that I have to do when I’m at work, then sit and stare at that list when I get home and find no motivation to do any of the things that seemed like a good idea, or needed to do. This means that the list continues to grow, which leads me into a whole panic because now I have this big list of things to do that I’m not motivated to do.
Sometimes I take the coward way out and just cross the stuff off, deeming it not essential to the continuance of life. Some of the things are stupid things and don’t really need to be done, or don’t actually need to be put on a list. Laundry, for example. You always have to do laundry, so why bother putting it on a list. Dishes, the same thing, there’s always dishes. Sometimes I think of the whole futility of housework. It never ends.
Ok, so its really hard to rant when you’re watching Eddie Murphy “Delirious” on Youtube while you are trying to rant.
I hadn’t seen that in a zillion years, and by coincidence, something happened that made me look on youtube to see if they had it. Here’s the coincidence:
I read on someone’s blog about the Black Friday stampedes and there was a link to a video where some poor older woman got knocked down in the stampede and she lost her wig. I sent the link to some friends, one of which responded: “Oh lawdy, lawdy, I’m falling down the stairs... my wig”.
That made me go to Youtube and sure enough, some kind soul had uploaded the whole thing in sections. Now I’m watching it again, and you know what... STILL FREAKING FUNNY!
Ok, so I can’t even begin to rant about how I’m obsessive compulsive about writing lists of things to do that I never get around to doing, then feel like a failure because I don’t do the things that I write on my list.
Thanks Mr. Murphy (I don’t know you well enough to call you Eddie) for making me forget that I’m a failure.