Procrastination

I slept well last night. For the first time in ages. A long hard sleep. I think, perhaps, I slept too long because I've spent all day half asleep. All day I've been in that place where I'm not quite awake, my head in a fuzz, easily disrtacted and desperate to go back to dream land.

In this place somewhere between awake and asleep some of the best stories lie. If I can find them. Some days I half-wake from slumber to a mind full of stories and poems as though the dreams have hitched a lift back to reality.

Today is not one of those days.

Instead I've walked the dogs, pottered around the house and now I'm sat. Trying to get those synapses to give me something of value. Instead they're saying "nah let's Google Rory McCann pictures or get in an infinite Greg Davies outtakes Youtube loop instead." I have no motivation. That is my curse. I try not to be lazy but I am terrible at getting myself motivated.  I work well to close panicked deadlines. If something invloves me having to try and get myself motivated I find myself procrastinating. And I'm good at procrastinating.

The kettle is my greatest foe. For there's not a thing I can't be distracted from by a good cup of tea. It's my arch-nemesis I can hear it now calling me "leave the housework... have a brew." I should really cut its plug off.

Hark The Kettle Calls
Hark the kettle calls
When a thousand things
Are clouding
Your busy hurried mind
Come to me the kettle says
And pour a brew
For I can help you
Relax and unwind
Leave those things
They are not worthy
Of your thoughts
Or time
I can help you
Here sit down
Drink this
You are mine


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