Procrastination

I miss procrastinating. Now that I'm out of school, there are so few opportunities to slack off. I mean, sometimes I let the garbage fill up a few days longer than I should -- but that's not really procrastinating. That's just being lazy. And disgusting. Ew.

When I was still in grad school, procrastination was an art form. One night in particular stands out. I had a massive paper due the next day, and while it was pretty far along, it was far from complete. But I didn't care. I decided that it was completely necessary that I list every book I owned. At least, the books that I had here with me in D.C. Who actually knows how many are stashed at my parents' house. (I did donate my prized Babysitter's Club collection to my mom's school, along with any other pre-teen masterpieces like Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret, but I know that there a ton there from my first two years of undergrad).

I have 276 books here. 276. Who has that many books, seriously?

And Awesome Roommate wonders why I am dreading moving.