Out of Steam

I have somehow contracted a serious case of the I-don't-wannas.  All week, I've been refusing to get up early, to get dressed, to get down to work, to attend class, to answer the phone, to deal with emails, to exercise--in short, to tend to much of what usually makes up my life.  And now, I-don't-wanna blog, and I-don't-wanna cook dinner.  And it's my turn.  I know, because I made up the schedule.

I have all sorts of excuses.  I still haven't shaken the dreary cold my grandson gave me a couple of weeks ago.  I attended an exhausting out-of-town training the end of last week, and am still dealing with a free time deficit.  We've been snowed-in the last couple of days.  My grandson is sick again--a new illness--and is disrupting his mother's, and thus my, schedule.  But mostly, if I'm honest, I-just-don't-wanna.

I suspect I have run out of self-control; just like the Heath brothers warned, in Switch.  I'm tired of the grown-up me bossing the profligate me around, judging my time-wasting and focus-lacking self.  It seems I've gone to the "suck-it-up" well once too often lately. 


And if that's my diagnosis, my treatment plan for this acute malady is to go to my minimalist gear.  So for the next few days, I'm going to lay off me, to do the things I pretty much have to, and not much else.  I need to stop ruling myself, before I go on strike for real.