The whole day goes by, and I get almost nothing done. Or it feels like I get nothing done. Or I get nothing consequential done.
I’m surprised, in fact, by how fast morning turns to night. Where did it go?
Here’s what I did this week: I slowly built pyramids of laundry, dishes, and recycling. I went on walks. I paid overdue bills. I opened cupboards and didn’t close them. I lingered in public places to be around other humans but didn’t call on any friends. I half-read magazine articles. I drank. I watched movies. I slept about 10 hours a day. I went to a class. I did a very little bit of work and half-heartedly asked for more. I did my rounds on the Internet. I stewed in the hot tub. I talked to friends and family on the phone.
I feel constantly distracted and unfocused. I feel dulled. I look at what others are able to accomplish and wonder how. How do the get so much work done? How do they have so many hobbies? All I can do is impotently mark the passing of time around me.
Maybe everyone feels this way. Maybe it’s the season. Maybe I keep writing things down and never learn from them. January, not April, is the cruelest month.