It may seem contradictory, but I've decided to take the day "off".
Yes, I always have Mondays off. In fact, I only work Tuesday and Friday evenings. But I've been beating the hell up out of myself for "not doing enough" with my free time because, when you aren't working 40+ hours/week as I've grown accustomed to the last 2 decades, you suddenly realize how much time is devoted to a job.
This collides with epic force with the voice in my head that lectures me how other people are constantly in a state of creating, helping, and doing overall wonderful things with their free time. In fact, I actually have an image in my brain of the more "responsible" me with shirtsleeves rolled up, typing on one of my three novels/works in progress, this squeezed in between the few hours I spent bettering the environment, only after I've delivered meals-on-wheels to several needy homes...
And the list goes on and on.
Last night, Ann and I decided that today, I would wake up "sick", and behave as such. Why? When you're sick, you CAN'T do anything, and usually don't want to. So I've caved in to the concept that I *could* be going to the bank, I *should* open one of my projects and write, but I simply *can't* today.
So I opened some mail, wrote some in my journal, turned off my phone, and have been doing fuck-all today. As a matter o' fact, it's 2:25pm, and I'm still in my pjs, a cup of coffee before me on the coffee table (how appropo).
It seems this will be a facet of my life I'll constantly need to monitor and allow myself to nurture instead of punish.