Recently I spent a day working on my sofa–and napping on my sofa–from roughly 9:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.
Not my usual workday but I got a fair amount done. And caught up on my sleep. (I think.) And I didn’t let my laptop crash to the floor and die.
Variations like that in my self-imposed schedule make me a little nervous. As if I’m daringly playing hooky.
Isn’t that ridiculous? Or are you familiar with this sensation?
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