Of all the many things I could (or rather, should) have done today, I managed to avoid them all. I didn’t reconcile the May bank statement (and let’s hope there are no big discrepancies, although there’s enough of a float to cover, probably). I didn’t pull any weeds or do any mowing out in the still-wet yard (but I do have a plan to get some of this work done during the week, for a change). I didn’t clean the bathroom (no big plans here) or the kitchen or the loft or the bedroom (ditto).

So what did I do? Well, I haven’t shaved since Friday, and I didn’t make my bed all day long. That tells you I didn’t plan to leave the house and I didn’t expect any visitors. I pretty much vegetated my day away. You can do that when you’re all caught up on the things you need to do. You probably shouldn’t do it if you have as long a to-do list as I have, but there was no one around to tell me I was shirking and slacking and dodging and ducking. I had to tell myself those things, and frankly, I wasn’t listening.

But there’s always tomorrow.

There is. There’s always tomorrow, right up until you run up against the last one. And if there isn’t going to be a tomorrow, I don’t want to spend today cleaning the bathroom. I’d much rather spend it watching NASCAR and baseball and foreign films on DVD and TiVo’d episodes of East Enders (from 2000, when Frank and Pat were making plans to run away together).

And reading. I started a new book last weekend, and I finally had a chance to take a big bite out of it today. Even if this wasn’t my last day (fingers crossed), I don’t mind spending it doing those kinds of things (even knowing that I’ll have to make up for the shirking, slacking, etc., tomorrow. Assuming there is one.)