The Protestant Rest Ethic

I have tried for some years now to build a day of real rest into my life. Doing so, I am finding, is not nearly as simple as I once imagined. How can a fundamentally lazy person (such as I seem to myself to be) find Not Doing Stuff so daw-gone difficult? It's not that I can't take a day off or go on vacation, it's just that, through the mortar of my walled-off day, there seems to seep the nagging notion that I haven't yet accomplished anything to speak of and I'd better quit putzing around (I love to putz!) and get at least something done. As my Sabbath progresses, I'm watching the clock and calculating the few hours left before sunset, the time by which I should have put to bed some worthy daytime project. How can I deserve a relaxing evening tonight if I haven't done diddly all day? Wait, lemmie think for a moment... I did write two posts today. Hmmm perhaps they'd qualify as at least some kind of diddly? Perhaps I can neutralize that pesky accomplishment nag by blogging it away. That's it--I'll pop that sucker right in the kisser with a big ol' fat blog! That'll show him! It's late in the day; I'd better pour myself a glass of wine and give this some serious thought. A cigar might be summoned to the battle as well. Tell you what: I'll send you some dispatches from the front lines as I'm able. If I get around to it. Someday.