Blog of Shame

I am staging my own intervention.
It’s 4:30 on Monday afternoon. In and of itself, that’s not a particularly scandalous declaration. Except that I haven’t done anything today. Anything.
Nothing.
I got up after 11. I sat on the couch and ate. I’m watching Oprah. More specifically, I’m watching some Bollywood people on Oprah. And a polo player named Nacho. And dammit, I had stuff I wanted to do today. More stuff than watching House Bunny and trying to decide how difficult it would be to make a Vito-shaped voodoo doll, which are the only two tasks I've completed today.
I am my own worst enemy.
Remember when I climbed right up on my furlough high horse and said stuff about making to-do lists and getting exercise and NOT watching Oprah? That same horse has bucked me off, presumably because I haven’t showered all day and am still in the clothes I slept in and don’t smell good, and trotted off without me.
The most exciting thing that happened today was when I was watching Nancy Drew - I shit you not, Nancy Drew - and something forcefully hit the window right behind my head. I shrieked like a little girl, then sat frozen on the couch for the rest of the movie before peeking outside to see if there was a maimed, beakless pigeon on my deck. There wasn’t. But now there is something foreign and globby laying on the air conditioning unit and I can’t tell if it used to be alive before it flew into the window, or if it was never alive and someone launched it into the window. I would make a horrible pre-teen sleuther. Now I have to wait for Megan to get home from a long day at work and solve my crime for me.
So… yeah.
I need some major accountability. You’ve heard of people keeping food diaries to help them lose weight? I am now turning this very blog into an activity diary of sorts, because if I spend another day like this I will be very ashamed. I’m hoping that if I have to fess up to my comings and goings, I will be less inclined to host my own one-person Minesweeper smackdowns.
I promise to be better.

UPDATE: Megan’s opinion -- it was a crabapple. Looks like I have a mystery to work on for tomorrow after all, as I can’t imagine why someone would chuck a crabapple at my window on a rainy Monday morning. It’s also Megan’s opinion that it was probably God telling me to get the fuck off the couch.