On procrastination

The other afternoon, I cleaned out our refrigerator. I also emptied and loaded the dishwasher and scrubbed my bathtub. I didn't clean my room because our washer is broken and most of the contents of the closet that was until recently spilling water out of its ceiling are strewn about my room recklessly, taking up space that neat piles of dirty clothes would otherwise occupy.

Normal people would do these things in the course of a normal day. Insofar as I am perhaps the biggest slob ever to emerge from the state of Illinois, I tend not to notice the necessity of their completion. But not that day! Oh, no. Why? Because I had outlining to do, and anything beats rereading everything I've already read for the semester and recapitulating it for the benefit of the members of my study group.

The discovery that procrastination in one area can lead to amazing productivity in other areas is both an incredibly trite statement and a fact discovered by most within a single week of beginning college, assuming high school had not provided ample opportunity for such discoveries.

But I'm procrastinating, and I couldn't think of anything more interesting to say.