Procrastination Station...

...keep at it and you'll never have an occupation.

Blame it on schoolhouse rock.

Hello internet. Welcome to Monday.

I have issues.

Don't ya just love a deadline? I do not. I hope to all that is good and pure that I can slop together enough semi-coherent garbage to garner a B on this word-vomit that is my paper, but I think that is just a little too optimistic.

That last sentence didn't really make sense, did it?

Hmmm.

So, here I am. Slacking my life away, sick as a dog (acute sinus crap) and wishing desperately that smoking a cigarette wouldn't launch me into a fit of whooping cough. Marcey came home from school for a little hiatus and she has super glued herself to my couch with a big glass of wine while I typetypetypetype away at the dining room table(insert pitiful sigh).

My question is: how are there people in the world who are, you know...driven. Where can I meet them? How can I become one of them? Why am I such a procrastinating waste of life? Can you tell me? Now, please? Also, do you have any wine? Can you give me some?

*Update: So, apparently I was drunk when I wrote this? Unfortunately, upon the customary re-reading of the paper, I realized that it is just as weird and awkward as my poor little entry...station and occupation? God help me.