Average work day.

Rolling over and seeing the time, a sigh escapes me. I had hoped to get up early today and get some things accomplished and already almost half the day was gone. There is a list of things for me to do on my desk in the other room waiting for me that I had told myself yesterday that I would complete. Forcing myself out of bed, the cat gives me a grumpy stare from the end of the bed.
"You lazy bastard." his eyes accuse me.
Muttering "I know, I know." at him, I stumble off to the bathroom.

Only after I've made myself some coffee and fed the cat do I allow myself to attempt some thinking. Grabbing the list off my desk, I sit in the living room and glance over it. Demanding I first consume at least a cup of coffee before making it work, my brain insists that a half hour of TV will make it happy.
"Just ONE show and then it's to work." I negotiate and the brain agrees.

Over an hour later, I glance at the clock and curse the brain for tricking me. It had purposely picked an hour long show to watch, knowing I'd either not notice or I'd be unable to walk away after only 30 minutes. Shutting off the TV, I go and refill my coffee, then sit down at my desk and log in. Checking my email would count as work, right? Sure. Sadly, the only email there was one from myself, reminding me to get up early and get my to do list done. Another sigh escapes me.

The first item on my list is to complete an article I've been writing; The deadline is the end of this week. Writing it has proven to be quite a painful process, which is odd because normally I can quickly pound them out. Not only was this one on a topic I really knew nothing about, but it just wasn't coming out right at all. Already I had scrapped two attempts at it. After reading through what I had kept, I force myself to stare at the screen for 10 minutes in a sad attempt to get my brain going. It refuses.

On my way to get more coffee, I come across the cat who has decided to sprawl out in the middle of the kitchen. He gives me a look to indicate that he will NOT be moving and that if I get too close, my feet will be pawed at. Staying a respectable distance away, I pour myself some more coffee and wish I too could lay down in the middle of the kitchen for several hours. These cats don't know just how easy life is for them. They have no deadlines to meet, no schedule to keep. Oh but to be a cat.

Once back at my desk, I decide that perhaps some music would inspire me; Something to get my brain feeling creative and willing to work. There are hundreds, if not thousands of mp3's for me to select from, not to mention my extensive CD collection hiding in the cabinet across the room. As I browse through my mp3 folders adding songs to my playlist, the cat wanders in and demands I feed him. Not wanting to displease the master, I promptly feed him. While I'm up, I figure that I too need to eat, and that a healthy mind needs a full stomach.

A sandwich, some potato chips and a fresh pot of coffee later, I'm back at my desk, ready to get some work done. I'm fed, I've got music playing, my coffee cup is full and the cat has claimed a small section of my desk as his own. It's late in the afternoon but this time I'm determined to get some work done. I have a few hours until it's the evening and that's plenty of time to get this simple article done.

Halfway through a paragraph, the questioning over my facts gets the better of me and I need to go verify my information. Searching for articles leads me into some interesting websites, none of which address the information I'm looking for. Somehow I end up on Ebay and purchase a new file folder for all my articles. A quick online payment and I'm back to searching for information, only I have forgotten when I'm specifically looking for and have to re-read the half a paragraph I've written.

Shit, 3.55 already.
"Get a grip man" I tell myself out loud, rousing the cat from his nap. "This needs to be done by the end of the week and you're pissing your time away."
The cat seems to echo that statement as he gives me a grumpy meow, stretches and then saunters off.
"Easy for you to say." I grumble. "Must be nice to be a cat."

More coffee is needed but I refuse to allow myself more until I complete the paragraph. It takes me another 10 minutes but I finally strut into the kitchen with my empty cup to reward myself for a paragraph done well. The dirty dishes piled up in the sink remind me that they too are on my to do list, and I better get to them before they decide to start stinking up the place. I relent to them and feel like I've finally started to get things accomplished for the day.

My sense of accomplishment fades once I return to my desk and stroke the single item off my list. The article is still staring back at me, mocking me for my failure to complete it. There are four other items on the list and I don't feel like doing any of them. Feelings of frustration and inadequacy begin to grope at me.
"The article MUST be finished TODAY." I tell myself in an attempt to will myself into action. "I can and WILL do this. No problem."

I even manage to get out another paragraph before the phone rings, startling me. Wondering who on earth would be calling me, I get up to go answer. Frowning at the "private name, private number" displaying on the phone, I decide not to risk the loss of time with it and let it go to voice mail. A minute later and I see the voicemail light blinking and my curiosity gets the better of me so I go listen to it. It's my friend Susan, reminding me that I had promised to go out for drinks with her this week and that tonight and tomorrow were the only two nights she had free before she went on her holiday. Of course, I phone her back. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t? A horrible one.

Susan questions me as to why I didn’t pick up and I tell her my woes. After consoling me about how difficult writers block can be, she demands we meet for dinner in an hour. Agreeing to meet her, I decide that the day simply had it in for me from the beginning. Hanging up the phone, I go to my computer, save what I had done and head towards the bathroom to have a shower.
“It’s okay,” I tell the cat as he glares at me, “Tomorrow I’ll wake up early and get everything on that list done.”
He yawns and lies back down, which I decide to take as permission to not feel guilty for my lack of action today. Who am I to argue with a cat?