I'm not paid to care
There was a time in the not-so-distant past when I could put in my time at work. At the end of the day, I could go home. I didn't think much about home at work. I didn't think much about work at home. The world was in balance.

Now I'm teetering. I think about work at home. I don't want to think about work at home. I'm not paid to think about work at home. I can't (won't) do work at home, so I don't really see a reason to think about it. Now, how do I convince my brain of same?

Is this why I should be a robot? So I could just shut off the work part of my brain when my feet hit the sidewalk. "Work Mode is off. Ding!"

If I were a robot, I probably wouldn't like to watch Love Actually. And I probably wouldn't pause it when Keira was getting married. And I probably wouldn't drool on myself.

So I won't be a robot, but I should really return the DVD. At least with a VCR when I hit pause it made it fuzzy. Now I can look in Keira's perfect eyes and there's no fuzz. There's almost no reason not to pause.