It's the weekend time, Sunday, a day for rest. Not a day for doing work, of any kind. And yet, I keep pushing myself to do the work. To move, and to thereby be better because of it.
Yet, what happens, is that I wake up, sit around and refuse to do work for any number of hours.
It's depressing and yet. True.
Oh well.
Yet, what happens, is that I wake up, sit around and refuse to do work for any number of hours.
It's depressing and yet. True.
Oh well.
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