At least seven important tasks dominated the cluttered to-do list. There were two articles that wouldn't write themselves, a package to send off, a pile of documents to read, a desk to tidy, an interview to conduct and some mislaid tickets to find.
Deciding to work at home, I had the coffee machine fired up and butter spread on batch-loaf toast. Then, instead of turning my attention to any of my pressing duties, I turned to the internet, the professional procrastinator's best friend.
A few hours later, none of the things on the to-do list had been ticked off. Other things had happened. I had read updates from four of my favourite blogs, skimmed three newspapers and watched the Indian version of Michael Jackson's Thriller, a doctored video of Heather Mills losing her prosthetic mid-foxtrot, and a Star Wars homage to the voice of James Earl Jones/Darth Vadar, all on YouTube. The toast went cold, but I ate it anyway.
I had clicked four times on Stumble Upon, a service that recommends sites you might like. This resulted in my browsing one website dedicated to storm clouds, one about acupressure yoga, another about how to tune a guitar and another that featured a news story about a 100m sinkhole in Guatemala that killed at least two teenagers and swallowed about a dozen homes.
I had also visited Second Life, the 3D virtual world, which for a while now I have toyed with the idea of joining. Here nearly five million people with virtual alter egos known as avatars build houses, make money, play games, create art and socialise in a world, to borrow from Willy Wonka, of pure imagination. Some of the characters are maintained by people who in the real world are wheelchair-bound. In Second Life they run around long-limbed and powerful in this community where nobody grows old and the average age is 32.
I spent about 20 minutes trying to come up with a suitable name for my avatar before deciding I needed to give it more thought. The irony of this was not lost on me. I was proposing to give more consideration to my non-existent Second Life while neglecting my First Life, my Only Life and my Actual Life.
I know most people can balance the two, using the internet for work, booking tickets, buying the occasional item on eBay and keeping in touch with friends who are away, generally not abusing this wonderful resource. But I can feel things sliding. I am starting to see how harmful - and much of it is unnecessary - internet usage can be for some people . . . as addictive, if less physically damaging, as drink or drugs or gambling.
I used to have a bit of an addiction to a card-game site. It wasn't a gambling service, but there was a points rating, and I became so obsessed with improving my rating that whole nights would pass in a haze of hearts, diamonds, clubs and spades. I had to wean myself off it, the way I weaned myself off cigarettes. Eventually the site closed down, and I never found another one that provided the same buzz. A blessing, really. Now, though, the entire internet has become a habit I'd quite like to kick.
It's supposed to make things easier, but lately it has become a strain. E-mails to be answered, must-see You Tube videos to downloaded, catching up to be done with people I don't know, will never know, probably don't want to know. Professionally, it makes life run more smoothly, but without self-discipline it's another vice in the style of, say, TV, which people lacking in self-discipline might struggle to control.
In China they have started to run boot camps for internet addicts, of which there are millions, mostly male, mostly gamers, mostly aged between 14 and 19. I fill out an online (naturally) survey to see how far gone I am when it comes to internet use and am relieved to be informed: "You are an average online user. You may surf the web a bit too long at times, but you have control over your usage." Yes, but for how long?
I've a friend who doesn't answer my e-mails. I can't take it personally, because he barely answers anyone else's e-mails, either. I used to find it frustrating, but lately I have begun to admire his restraint. He has his finger in the e-dam, stemming the tide of his clogged up in-box. People ring my friend and say, did you not get my e-mail? He says, when did you send it? They say, 15 minutes ago. And he says, well, no, I am not chained to my computer, checking every five minutes to see if somebody, anybody wants to make contact with me. This frustrates people, and although he could do without the guilt associated with unanswered e-mails, there is a kind of freedom in refusing to play the game.
Now if you'll excuse me, there are a few things I really need to do.