How is it not even 11am?

One of the problems I struggle with when I’m not working outside of the house is that by 11am, I’m bored. I’ve cleaned the house, I’ve done the dishes, I’ve slayed a load of laundry, I’ve tidied and made beds and run the dryer; and it’s 10:41am.

It sounds like something I should enjoy; not having anything to do, but it’s not me. I need something to do. I’ve started working out in order to use some of my “free” time, but I get my half-hour of exercise done by 9:30am, and I’m still bored.

I’m working on a novel, but you can only push yourself to write so many words in a day. I can write jibberish, or blog all afternoon, but it’s not really productive to just blather on; I don’t think.

I could learn something, take a class online (there are plenty of free online classes, btw), exercise more, create something crafty, or wash the windows … but none of those things actually sound fun.

What sounds fun? Laying on a very warm but breezy beach with a book and a fruity (non-alcoholic) drink. I could probably find a breezy (but not warm) beach within 45 minutes of driving (living in Silicon Valley is so nice) but meh.

Boredom is frustrating, and it’s not even 11am.

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