Don't want to.
Want to be lazy and cuddle with my cat and go outside and lay in the snow looking at the sky and sort photos and play with my personal webpage and drink some Mike's hard limeade and watch episodes of Firefly and nap randomly and sketch.
Want to write Kaz fluff and have a rum and coke and work on my art projects and paint with oils.
Stupid guilt. Gotta work on the RWH tarot cards.
Want to stay here at my quiet, clean, peaceful house in the birch trees, not drive into town and look at my wreck of an office and work.