Being That Idiot

I was hoping to write a few words last night, just like I had been planning to write a few words the night before. I planned to write a few words this morning too – and I suppose I am now – but the clock keeps ticking, and I find myself being pulled in several directions at once. The breakfast things are cleared away, the washing machine is on, the clothes dryer is up and running, and I'm hitting keys on the keyboard. I suppose that's writing, isn't it?
I thought I would have half an hour to write something, but one thing after another has cropped up – taking away minutes before I start my working day. I have a little over ten minutes left now. Once I start work, I have a problem to solve in some programming from yesterday. Something that's not working. I was thinking about it the moment I woke up this morning – I tend to do that – I almost unpacked my work laptop at midnight last night because I kept thinking about it.
I need to learn how to switch off better. For the last several months video games have been a pretty good avenue of distraction – perhaps once the vaccines have been rolled out I might go for a walk, and brave town once more. I've been stunned during the last year – despite desperate pleas from the government – at how many people put their own interests ahead of those of anybody else. They manufacture all manner of convoluted reasons, and don't seem to realise the few of us that have followed guidance just think they are colossal assholes now, and probably will forever more.
Anyway. Enough of the angry-pants idiocy.
I have to get my work laptop out, and start trying to solve this problem, if only to prevent myself from going insane. If you see nothing from me for the next 48 hours, it's most probably because I did an all-nighter working on it. Yes, I am that idiot.