Perhaps it's been culturally ingrained in me as a woman, or maybe it's some deep psychological scarring, but if I don't get anything productive done every day, I have this debilitating guilt. Mind you, that doesn't mean I do anything about it most of the time - I just putter about the Internet and waste time on perniciously addictive Sudoku puzzles and cringe guiltily all the while. But I've been better these past few days. I moped the floor for the first time in six months and did the dishes all in one morning, and wrote a new chapter of my novel that I'm even relatively satisfied with. Of course, to reward myself I intend to putter away until the guilt comes crushing down again, but for now I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself. ;)