There were big plans for today. He was going to wake up, take his sister to the bus, then walk on to the gym. Work out, come home, get things done, work out. It didn't work out.
He woke up at ten, used the bathroom, and was finally ready at 11:30. "Lunch time," he thought. Lunch, an episode of Doctor Who, 12:30. Still time for the gym.
A mile into the two mile walk and he was ready to go home. He had made some effort towards working out; the gym could come tomorrow. Besides, mother had chores for him; he needed to get them done before picking up sister.
Back at home he gathered the bed-liner for his truck, dragged it out of the garage, and was just about ready to drive to the carwash when he made a shocking discovery: there was a recliner in the back of his car. At that moment, he realized he wouldn't be getting anything done today.
The bed-liner went back into the garage, he went into the truck, and then on to Wal*Mart. Two weeks now, he had been struggling; two weeks the cookie dough had called his name.
Back at home; watching TV, eating the entire tube of sweet, sweet salmonela risk...
3:45. Time to pick up sister. He went to the school, all three hundred pounds of beard and sleep pants, and tried his hardest not to look creepy. At 4:00, he called mother. "Yeah, is there a bail-time? Can I just go home and she can make it back on her own?"
"You're not supposed to pick her up today; she has piano. We told you last night."
Back at home, watching TV, regretting the cookie dough...