I have major brain flatulence this morning. My body resists being productive once my last class of the week is over. From Thursday 9pm until Monday (sometimes Tuesday) my workbrain commutes to some obscure part of me, an intimate little bistro on a side street in my head to drink wine and pontificate about life.
So the rest of me is split on what to do today. I have tons of work to do, the only pieces of clean clothes left in my closet are my socks, and I have no desires to be anywhere but underneath my deliciously comfy flannel blanket and quilt.
What would you do Judge Mathis?
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