is geriatric shagging procrastination?

This morning I saw a little boy being taken to school on an elephant. I also saw the blind leading the blind (quite literally: two blokes with white sticks wobbling along the middle of the street - good job they didn't connect with the elephant). I was on my way back from doing the morning school run. Sometimes I'm so wrapped up with being a mum, I forget that I'm in Kathmandu, but things like this remind me that I'm thousands of miles from the nearest Tescos/TK Maxx/McDonald's.

When I got home from school run, I meant to have a productive day writing, but ended up sleeping. All morning. I've had yet another tummy bug (luckily only evacuating from one end this time), and couldn't quite make getting the kids on the school bus at 7.30, but I did manage to take enough cramp suppressants & painkillers etc. to drive them to school for 8.30. However, by the time I got home again I felt spectacularly rubbish. I thought about what Hubby would say, and decided he would tell me to just go to bloody bed. So I did. And I slept for three hours - exactly the three hours when I should have been finishing chapter 6. Bummer! Think my plan of finishing the manuscript by the Easter hols is doomed to failure...

I have triplets tonight, except one of them is much hairier than the other two. Yes, Gary has decided to sleep in with the Twins, and who am I to argue with him? Well, would you argue with a tired Tibetan Mastiff? Nope, me neither.

Do you think I should write some of the novel now (I could try to sort out the rest of chapter 6 before bed time), or read an Alan Bennett short story about geriatric shagging that a friend has just recommended?

I am angling towards geriatric shagging...but perhaps that's just procrastination.