pass me the torch, please

Pro.cras.ti.na’tion
Did you think I was done with those reports for my parent teacher conferences? Haha! Fooled you. I’m working on them right now. I swear.

Meanwhile, I’m cruising craigslist, because you know, the right temporary roommate could be out there right now, waiting for my house.

6:55 pm – three done, three to go. Oh, come on. Did you think I was going to do the ones for Tuesday tonight? Please. Time for dinner.

Here I am! Why does blogger use the time one started a post as the time it was posted? You’d think it would make sense to time-stamp it with the time it was published. Ok, 3 more reports.

9:30, reports written, dishes washed, laundry hung to dry by the stove. Check, check and check. I am turning into my mother. There are worse things.

Today, I went to Richmond with my long-suffering parents, to help my great-aunt move from one apartment to another, smaller apartment. I now want to be sure to set fire to my house just before I die, so that no one will ever have to look through my highly unorganized desk and deside if the random scribbled note from Sophie about going outside to play is worth saving or should be given away or thrown away. Oh, and how about the broken rice cooker? Nobody but me needs to deal with that. Why do we hang on to so much crap? Fear of death? I’m here to tell you that fear of death is going to make me clean out all the useless shit from my house. Someday.

(Except for the couple few things I brought from my great-aunt’s house today, like the cool knife that straps to one’s belt. And the 2-part cast iron pan. And the wire-mesh sieve.)

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