I’ve been lazy today: into work briefly, hurriedly, to set up a half-hearted experiment, which won’t work, but if I don’t make use of the tissue, I feel guilty – seriously, I do – even though it isn’t like I don’t have other stuff that constitutes legitimate excuse (double negative there, but you know what I mean); but what’s worse: slinging into Virkon yesterday, or slinging Virkon over the resulting culture in the middle of next week? All because I thought ‘bugger it’, deciding, as I had, to watch the live game that kicked off at 1245; but, three pints of Guinness later, it became apparent, as it does whenever I feel like I’ve wasted time, that I will reach the close of this day somewhat slightly narked with myself for getting nothing done, because three pints of Guinness and catching up on chores do not tend to happen, for me, in that order; so, instead, I’ve been perusing a pile of music magazines, skipping around to You Say He’s Just A Psychic Friend, and pondering a quote I found in an old notebook (the source of which, I neglected to record):
Continuous small achievement is the key to happiness.
So, what’re going to do tomorrow, boy…?
– Get up early!
– Tidy and clean up (at least empty the cutlery tardis)
– Write a couple of overdue letters
– Go into work: give a bit more thought and TLC to that culture to see if it can be rendered informative, and;
try and darn another hole in that interminably evolving draft
– Play football (yes, exercise! Instead of sitting on yer lazy twad with a pint in yer mitt, watching others).
Then, perhaps, I’ll relax with the paper and a glass of something. And hopefully feel like I’ve earned it.