Dear Procrastination,My faithful friend and paramour throughout these many years, we have known each other for so long now. Aren't you tired of torturing me yet? Why do you hang around at the worst times, when my desk is piled with ungraded papers, my notebook is gathering dust, and deadlines are whizzing past?
If I could only break free of you, of my obsession with your enticements--the random googling, the elaborate snack I just have to prepare and subsequently devour, the other email I desperately need to send, the fascinating New Yorker article that is just so important I can't wait to read it, the latest VH1 junk TV show--
I would have finished that novel, the memoir, dozens of poems, and probably a couple of book proposals. The circles under my eyes would vanish. My temperament would even out (right!) and everyone would find me much more pleasant to be around--especially my longsuffering husband.
So how about it, Procrastination? Can you give me a break? You can keep the horse. . .
Love,
your Pardner
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