I have been lying on my sofa, thinking about blogging, for the past three hours.
“Must write a post,” my mind said, over and over.
“Ah, but I’m so comfortable,” my body whispered back, snuggling its left buttock a little more deeply into the cushion.
“Must write a post,” my mind reiterated, sounding a little snippy. “I need to get back into the habit.”
“Ah, but this Beaconsfield thing is more interesting than we thought it was going to be,” my eyes responded, refusing to admit that knowing the ending kind of spoiled the drama.
“Must write a post,” my mind shouted, over and over. “You’ll forget how to blog.”
“Ah, but there’s always tomorrow,” my toes replied, curling with delight at the thought of a clear day to tackle my work after I waved the boys off to school.
“Oh, bloody hell,” my mind said, resignation in every tone. “If you must.”
I think it was the resignation that did it. I got up. I walked to my desk. I wrote a list of all the things I needed to do tomorrow.
“Be a good idea to cross one thing off that list right now,” my mind whispered, sounding all hopeful.
“Oh, bloody hell, all right,” my body said, slumping down in my office chair with a huff.
And so it was done.
Never put off til tomorrow what your mind reckons you should do tonight. For that way, insomnia lies.
[image: from frayedattheedges]