A Kind of Infinite Regression

And here I am bound when I should not be bound. Restless I slip from room to room, from magazine to television programme I'm not really watching, trying to put off coming here and opening a sketchbook and doing some drawing, anything, using my evenings productively, making the most of my time...
...which is why it never works, not really, because as soon as I try to be 'productive' it stops being fun, as soon as I 'try and make the most of my time' I worry about wasting that time with blind alleys, and end up doing nothing, or having to rub out what I've done because its all so, well, just not fun...
When I get to work tomorrow I'll feel like drawing again though. I'll probably doodle if it gets quiet, draw between calls... and I won't be able to do anything productive really because I'll be at work, but I'll think when I get home, I'll put a few hours in, I'll make the most of my time...
I'll get home though, and be bound when I should not be bound, and if I'm not careful, the next 25 years will pass by like this, and I'll retire (if I'm able to) and I won't have done anything at all...