I have so much to do, but don't feel like doing any of it. I'm bored, which makes me want to snack. I open the fridge; I peer in the pantry. I shut both doors empty-handed. I go upstairs and look out the window. I sit down with my new book and read only three pages. "I'm antsy," I announce, to no in particular. Mom hears me. "Why don't you go for a walk?"

I should. Part of me wants to. But mostly I want to do nothing. I'd enjoy the end-result of the walk, but not the process of it. I mull this over and walk to my room. I plop down on the bed.

I watch the ceiling fan a while and then gaze out the open window. The curtain sways ever-so-softly from the breeze of both.

I look around the room at my piles and lists, fully aware of my pressing "to do"s. "Not today," I almost say out loud. Please not today.

Is this lack of discipline or is this a much-needed rest? When is nothing laziness and when is nothing healthy?

My head hurts from all this thinking. If I'm gonna do nothing, that means no analyzing my nothing either.

I wish you were here to do nothing with.