It isn't even the anxiety of all of the impending festivities. Nope, it's not that at all. It's just well...I suppose I'm being juvenile, but I plain old don't feel like doing anything that requires any actual doing. I'd like nothing more than to sit on my ass and dream a little dream about sitting on my ass and dreaming. Not exactly a novel concept I suppose, but it's feeling pretty damn novel in my busy life right about now.
Every time I glance over at the time I get a little more agitated, "The day is coming to a close, what do I still need to get done ?" You're probably thinking I should be doing and not blogging, yes? And I guess I could, but there has to be some balance. I enjoy blogging and I'm hoping that my public venting will ease the agitative angst and I'll smoothly segue into some super-productive stupor. I doubt it, but the thought did make me smile...well, it was more like a grimace-like wince sort of thing, but certainly the closest I've gotten to a smile this expletive-filled Wednesday afternoon.