I have my lovely desk and my big screen. I get through some or most or all of my paid work while managing to prioritise cash over cats and then it's time to work on my Masters.
Suddenly the mewing and the distractions - like, 'Why hasn't my accountant replied to my email?' and 'Do I maybe feel hungry now?' and "I really should meditate' and 'Is it time to have a bath?' and 'VIKINGS!!!' - become unbearable.
How can I sit here with my lovely desk and my big screen when someone is SCREAMING at me non-stop and my mind is offering up all these thoughts and worries and alternative course of action?
If I sit on my bed, the cats just settle to sleep on my legs. But then I am not using the good-for-my-back chair and the good-for-my-eyes screen and the goof-for-my-shoulders desk. Which were not, lest it be forgotten, free.
So, instead of working on the paper I have written on culture - which I expect is too long, too empirical and too unphilosophical - or the one I sort of thought I might write and have sort of started on companionship, here I am moaning on a blog post. But at least I am at my desk, on my chair and with the screen. Not that I am using the big screen anyway at the moment.
Right. Time for a bath, I think.
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