I had had big plans for specific types of slacking, but life intervened somehow, and my brain wasn't up to it. So, I did... something. I don't know what. Every time I looked up, hours had gone by. I jumped from noon to 4PM to 9PM to now without noticing the passing of time, or any significant change in the state of the book I was reading or the story I was writing. The only thing that seems to have made any progress is my single-minded dogged attempts to work my way through a backlog of crossword puzzle books. I think I finished 2 of them today. That's probably where the time went.
But, um. Could I get my Sunday back?