It seems I cannot get things done without a deadline.
It also seems it's hereditary.
StrongOpinions is trying to get her college applications done before going north to her dad's house for a month or so. She had three essays to write for the college she is most interested in (hippy-dippy Buddhist college in Boulder) - one a statement of interest, one a decription of a transformative event in her life, and one a narrative about what she wants to do with her education. She is given to grand pronunciamentos, so these read like a cross between Ayn Rand, the Dalai Lama, and Jim Wallis. Could be worse. Reading her observations on her life so far, and my recollection of what REALLY transpired, is an interesting experience. I have to keep reminding myself that my purpose is not to correct her perceptions, just look for grammatical errors and typos that spellcheck missed. My tongue is bloody from biting it.
My deadline is to finally finish PH's Christmas sweater. It's a complex Aran, with a 36 row repeat, so it's taken much longer than sweaters usually take. I worked on it for a couple of hours last night, while watching a marvelous NOVA special on savants and my guilty pleasure: "House."
Meanwhile a couple of beautiful new books await my attention, Walter Brueggemann's "Theology of the Old Testament" and Jaroslav Pelikan's new commentary on Acts. Of course, what am I reading? The Phil Rickman nystery novel. Why eat cruciferous vegetables when you can have a Snickers bar?
Plus, I'm a couple of chapters behind on New Testament Greek - terrified by aorist verbs. Got to get cracking on that. Plus I am moving my downtown office stuff back to the house, and I've got files to organize. Plus I have a couple of advisory memos to write to the bosses...
Procrastination is my middle name (actually, the second middle name, after Chocolate).