Advised repair schedule: reboot startup disk, offline for thirty-six hours, and replace head
The trouble is that when I manage to get a day in which I do nothing except lie around and read and occasionally glance at the internet and go back to lying around reading—and now intermittently thinking about rewatching Hans Christian Andersen (1952)—I feel that I am wasting time. I am not writing poems. I am not writing stories. I am not writing movie reviews. I am not working my paying job. I am not looking for supplementary work, of which God knows I need some. The Protestant work ethic is killing this country as we speak and I'm not even Protestant and it has been a demonstrable fact for years that if I do not get time by myself, unplugged, unstructured, not interacting in any fashion including the internet, I go nuts. And yet I feel like I'm wasting my time. Time I can't afford. Time running out. Avoiding my way through the end of days. Title of this post determined by my current mood, not by what I'm watching.

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After too many years, there are now weekends again where the laptop stays firmly closed (ok maybe a quick email check, but no working), and this has proven to be a Very Good Thing for a healthier Selidor.
But then after the weekend there will still be a voice in the mind of 'yes but what did you get done?'. Fie on thee, guilt-voice. Unwatered seeds never grow.
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Thank you. I'm glad you have that time for yourself, no matter the false guilt afterward.