Sigh
I hate post-work enthusiasm.
I come home Sunday evenings feeling either totally exhausted or tired but jazzed up beyond all belief on account of being done until Friday. The result is that on the roughly 25-minute drive home I come up with all kinds of crazy ideas about what I'm going to do that night or the next day or just generally in the near future.
Then, after about an hour at home, I have little to no motivation to do anything at all and start critically evaluating those plans. Generally, I decide that they were terrible and do something else.
Why must my neurotransmitters be so cruel?
I come home Sunday evenings feeling either totally exhausted or tired but jazzed up beyond all belief on account of being done until Friday. The result is that on the roughly 25-minute drive home I come up with all kinds of crazy ideas about what I'm going to do that night or the next day or just generally in the near future.
Then, after about an hour at home, I have little to no motivation to do anything at all and start critically evaluating those plans. Generally, I decide that they were terrible and do something else.
Why must my neurotransmitters be so cruel?