Some days it takes every trick in the book to get up and sit down, even promising yourself that you don't have to write when you get there. (You're lying, and you know it. But you're counting on your inner perversity to carry that one through.)
Then there's days, like today, when you sleep through said every trick, and it takes more, it takes the panicked sting of adrenaline to get you going.
Then you find out your mother's flight has been cancelled. And she's arriving later. And you have time to spare now.
And you know this kind of 'reward' is only going to reinforce the bad behaviours.