Labor daze.

Do you ever get so overtaken by your own apathy that you spend your days enjoyably doing nothing - even though you have tasks you could be doing - and think to yourself, "Um, the only way I'm getting out of this rut I'm in is if someone comes to my apartment door and forces me, at gunpoint maybe, to get on with things ..."?

Anyone? Anyone? Oh dear, I was kinda afraid it was just me.

No savior came to my door to force me to do anything this weekend. Just the pizza guy.

I wouldn't say I'm complaining about the situation, just recognizing it. I mean, I enjoyed doing nothing the majority of this Labor Day weekend. (Well, I did work every night at the bookstore - and I even pulled a shift in the music department for fun.)

I could've written a draft of my letter to literary agents or a chapter out of that book I'm planning.

Instead, I finished reading "Darkly Dreaming Dexter," which was sorta bad in a way that I felt guilty I wasn't reading better books.

I also watched an episode of "Days of Our Lives" where nothing in particular happened, then wrote Miss Gibson in London an e-mail to discuss "Days of Our Lives."

And, of course, after "Days" came a really great episode of "Passions" where a lot - I mean, A LOT - happened, including a scene where a character found out that she's pregnant with her BROTHER'S baby. "Passions" had me so worked up that I couldn't even watch "Oprah" afterward. It was THAT good.

I started, albeit slowly, "Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell," the book I've been talking about for weeks. And I discovered on the Web, while downloading new virus software, that the author of that book's doing a local signing on Thursday - and I'm totally there for that.

Arguably the most interesting thing occurred this morning, when I wrote an IM to Lupo apologizing for how messy my apartment was during his visit. And, upon sending it, I realized that he'd only visited my messy apartment in my dreams because I'd just woken up. So he and his boyfriend didn't really leave my apartment in a huff before going to buy a Sleep Number Bed.

So that was my Labor Day weekend. A whole lot of work. A whole lot of nothing.