It’s a good thing I live alone. If I were someone else and had to live with me and put up with my bad habits and character flaws, I wouldn’t be very happy about it. So it’s a good thing I live alone, and it’s a good thing I don’t judge myself too harshly.

Unlike yesterday, which I spent lounging around in full slug mode doing next to nothing — or as close to next to nothing as humanly (or sluggishly) possible — I was a bundle of nervous energy today. I should have been a dynamo, getting caught up on work, or cleaning the house, or (at the very least) taking down the Christmas decorations at long last.

But no, it was not meant to be. I didn’t even fix myself breakfast until 1:30 pm, by which time I had been up for well over two hours. And then, while I was pouring syrup on my pancakes, I saw an ant walk across the plate and come to a sudden (but happy) end, drowning in the maple-y goodness of Hungry Jack.

That put me off a little, but I dug out the ant and ate the pancakes anyway, then made myself another batch. Only when I was finished eating did I search for where the ants were coming from. I firmly believe that they’re coming in through the cracks in the ceiling, because the only place I could find them was in the cabinet above the stove.

So I sprayed and cleaned and threw a lot of food away (food which was probably old enough to be thrown away ants or no ants). It was not how I planned to spend my Sunday, but I had a little energy so I started taking down the Christmas decorations. I got the tree of lights off my wall and hauled the big tub downstairs from the loft before I ran out of gas.

Well, you know, things happen. The phone rang, and after that I was distracted by the football game on TV, and it was a nice day and I’d left the door open after coming back from taking ant-filled garbage to the garage, so I took a little walk around the property. That was pretty much the end of anything ambitious I might have tried today.

Tonight the sofa is strewn with decorations that I haven’t quite got around to wrapping up and putting back in the tub, which is sitting in the middle of my living room floor with the top off, waiting for me to finish. I’m definitely ready for Christmas to be over, but it won’t be over tonight. But it’s a good thing I live alone, because no one else would put up with the mess I’ve made.

It’s a good thing I don’t work for myself. If I were the boss of someone like me and had to put up with my procrastination and general laziness, I might have to fire myself, or at least give myself a stern warning and a lukewarm evaluation. So it’s a good thing I don’t work for myself, and it’s a good thing the man I do work for doesn’t get a chance to watch.