Santa’s flamethrower met Frosty the snowman

December 28th. A fine day to be motivated and inspired to leap into action, to accomplish many things, make plans, or at least do the laundry. After all, I just spent five days doing just about absolutely nothing other than eating and drinking and opening presents. A fresh new year is upon us, and it’s not proper etiquette to face that with a sink full of dirty dishes. I didn’t even get in late last night–my plane got in at noon.

But here I am, in wet hair, a cat on my lap, surfing the Internet. I’m supposed to be at work today, but I somehow never made it in. I suppose I’m technically working from home, but the only real work I’ve done is answer a few e-mail messages. I went to the gym, but that hour hardly accounts for the entire day. No, mostly, I’ve been sitting here with the cat on my lap.

I’ve been mulling over this last year and what I want out of next year, but that all seems so much to write about right now. Or to think about right now.

I guess it’s ironic. One of my main complaints of this past year, as well as one of the main obstacles I want to overcome in the next is being so lethargic (if I don’t call it lazy, does that mean it’s not?). There’s a time for petting a cat on your lap, but then there’s a time to, well, not. Unfortunately, I seem mostly unable to do the latter.

I just want to drink coffee and write all day. And while in the vaguest sense, that is what I do at the job that pays me, writing about functions and parameters and hiragana to midashigo conversions just isn’t the same as rambling about whatever the hell I want. Also, at my paying job, I have to deal with people. You know how it is, dealing with people. It’s the primary reason you get paid to do your job–all that people-dealing. If I could just, say, write a novel all day, I’d only have to deal with the crazy characters inside my head. But then, there is that issue of getting paid, which I’m also rather fond of.

As P. was reading the silly story I wrote for him for Christmas, he started to say that I should turn it into a children’s book. But then he got to the part about how Santa’s flamethrower met Frosty the snowman and changed his mind.

I always have such grand plans in my head. I’m going to file all of my receipts! And send in for that rebate! Purge and back up my hard drive! Organize my recipes! Brush the cats! Discover the secret to cold fusion! (Or has someone discovered that already? Maybe that was just a movie.)

And then I make fondue and drink wine instead.

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