I'm Being Rebellious...Again

I see that I have not blogged in a week.

Brownies are baking in the oven as I write, so a chocolate aroma is wafting through the house. My children are gone to the playground with their cousins. I'm neither hot nor cold (Scott has discovered that I have a half-degree tolerance range on household temperatures, so this fact alone is remarkable.) It's Friday, so we are all breathing a sigh of relief because we will not have homework tonight. And BYU plays tomorrow...All is right with the world (well, almost all...I'm sure if I put my mind to it I could complain about something.)

Anyway, I am rebelling. How? By procrastinating. I'm supposed to be writing newspaper stories. I've been researching and interviewing for days -- stories about comediens, truck drivers, fun runs, etc. I have six stories due at noon on Monday, and they'll all be done, but at what cost in terms of sanity, family harmony, etc.? My legs will be permanently bent by then.

I've read that doing what you're supposed to do WHEN you're supposed to do it is a sign of maturity. I am not mature. I pay my bills on time -- that ought to count for something -- but I'm weak. I lack discipline. I AM A PROCRASTINATOR. There must be a support group somewhere for people like me.

I know, I know. Time is a valuable thing! A very, very valuable thing. Thoreau's words haunt me: "As if you could kill time without injuring eternity." Ah, the guilt!

But here I sit, blogging.