I think the term for what I'm suffering from right now can only be irresponsibility hangover. Saturday and Sunday were so freakin' unproductive, with so little accomplished, so many commitments abandoned, that I've been beating myself up about it ever since. The cure, of course, will be four hours of writing and a trip to the gym tonight, but the complication in all this is that I feel some illin' coming on. In fact, that's why Sunday was mostly Hoovered away by sloth -- I used a sore throat and slight ickiness as an excuse to drink tea in bed at 1 PM while watching DS9. But I'm not sick enough to get away with using illness as an excuse. The show must go on.
It wasn't a bad weekend, and I had a lot of fun doing the things I did. The short film fest went over great (damn it, everyone's so freakin' talented), I carved a pumpkin whose terrible melancholy will strike ennui in the hearts of all who see it, and Deep Space Nine was the best television series in the whole wide world. But such a pittance of writing! Totally unacceptable!
This is a problem that can be fixed. And perhaps, once again, I'll be able to live up to the standards I hold myself to.
Besides, there are only four more episodes of DS9 left on my TiVo...