Neurosis behind the wall of sleep

Discombobulated....jolted from unexpected sleep...sat down to watch an inning or two before getting to the lawn...now it's...later. Perfect. Whenever I want to get shit done, I shoot my own foot off. The lawn needs to be mowed, the driveway and sidewalk swept, insect killer to be sprayed, floors and windows to be washed. So far today I've ran to the library and store and downed a few cold ones on the sun porch while listening to Ryan Adams and Charlie Parker and reading the paper. Fun and relaxing? Sure. Productive? Hardly, and I can't stand not getting shit done so I can fuck off with impunity after the fact. So now I'm all keyed up and restless, and I really can't do much, since the missus is also crashing right now. Thus I'm pissing my pants here. Good times...