Once upon a time I was a semi-organized person. I worked two jobs for ten years, sometimes putting in eighteen-hour days, and then I worked full time at home and that was no nine-to-five job, either. I had file cabinets with real files with labels and everything. No, really. I fit in a lot of company and did a lot of cooking. I did housework on an almost-regular basis. All this was before I made procrastination a way of life. Even when I know this non-habit will bite me in the backside, I continue to put off that which must be done. Give me a deadline and I will wait until the last possible moment to spring into action, and I don't spring as well as I used to anymore and sometimes fall flat on my face.
Another day spent at the computer. Aarrgh. I longed to go out and give John Dear some exercise, but the best I could manage was a couple of walkabouts and a brief respite on the deck. My farmer's tan is creeping up my arms as I push long sleeves up higher a little more each day. In addition to the salad thief, the warm weather has brought out the wasps. It won't be long until I go out on the deck armed with spray can in hand, looking for their nests. I did a pretty good job last year keeping them in check this way. Wasps and hornets are a yearly plague up here, and not one I look forward to, no more than when the mosquitoes arrive.
Back in the house and back at the computer, I berated myself once again and promised to turn over a new leaf. I will stay on top of any upcoming event and be prepared in advance. I even thought about dusting.