so are the days of our lives...

i'm feeling terribly procrastinational this morning, if that's actually a word. my taxes are sitting here on my desk, just waiting to be electronically filed, and i've got about ten loads of laundry upstairs, also in a hold pattern.

the problem i'm having is simply the lack of energy that spikes so often on saturday morning. i feel like i need to slouch away the am hours simply in revenge of the week of mornings in which i'm forced to awake, wash and garb myself, and hurry out the door to be productive.

being productive on the weekends, however much it would be for me alone, is just out of the question.

and thus, at 1059 am, i'm sitting here in my shorts and giant shirt, barefoot and toes cold, too freaking lazy to roll upstairs and shower, or even go in search of slippers.

it happens every weekend. it's not like weather, either--you hear the weather report and think, perhaps i ought to wear boots, since we're getting two feet of snow. there is no preparing for this rout of inability. i can't promise myself coffee--which tastes ever so good and is also a fantastic version of wake-kim-up--because my blood pressure goes through the roof.

perhaps it's that i look forward to little during the weekends--during the day, that is. during the week i have the impetuous to leave the house, immerse myself in the ugly, and then return home to my safe and secure cocoon, filled with two purring cats and my very own adoring spousal equivalent.

on weekends, i wake and do not need to leave.

does that mean i take less pleasure in being home on the weekends? i don't think so. i just like the opportunity to retreat so very much--hide in my own den, whatever have you--that it takes away the rush of the week, the momentum that keeps me going long enough to get the kitchen cleaned up and the litter boxes emptied.

today as i sit here i am lost in the realm of possibilities. i could visit friends--i could clean--i could read--i could write--and it all becomes so overwhelmingly within reach that i close down and sit here in my filth, playing fetch with my cat and listening to the furnace turn on and off in a futile effort to keep the house warm.

usually by one o'clock i'm up and running. i'm done with being a laz-about and want to move, stretch limbs, accomplish something or other. it's now 1105, and my feet are one degree chillier, and i'm staring half-heartedly at the screen while my fingers tap out discontent on the keyboard, a song unto themselves.

all the days in my life are numbered--this is just another one of those days, and just as watch the evening forecast and see that tomorrow calls for a 60% chance of snow, i can forecast my own day to day feelings. monday through friday there's a good chance that i'll be motivated enough to show up at work, every day, and exceedingly motivated to return home each night. but on saturday and sunday, the two days in which i've no one to please but myself, the batteries run out and i pretend that i am plugged into home, recharging for the coming week.

***

as a side note: in january i was sick for a good week, actually missed 4 days of work, and had a sinus infection. after that i threw out my back. per the dr i get to have physical therapy, starting whenever it is that i get around to finding out which pt actually is covered under my insurance...yet another thing to do, on another day.