Saturday, November 3, 2007

On (Procrastination) Moving

I suck at it. Period.

Two weekends in a row now I've gone to bed on a Friday night with the intention of waking up early to drive the hour from my parents house to my apartment in New Jersey to pack as much as I possibly can in the entirety of a Saturday afternoon.

Two weekends in a row now that I've woken up around noon on a Saturday, lazy'd around for a bit (read: more than a bit), eventually made my way east, and wasted the entirety of a Saturday afternoon doing everything but packing (note: last Saturday wasn't a waste of time, by any means. But for the sake of the story, it was a waste of time, ok? Good.)

I have to be out by the 11th of November. I am going to miss living by myself, but I won't miss the diet I came to rationalize as healthy during that time. A 27 year old person should not be eating as if he was a 17 year old college student who traded 1 month of his dining commons points for adult beverages and a 2 month supply of ramen noodles (chicken, not beef) and brand X mac n cheese.

Nothing beats mama's home cooking. Especially when mama is a middle aged Italian woman. And when Tuesday night is pasta night...

Uh, yeah. Moving. I suck at it. Period. ! point.

Taking the day off from work on Thursday because my brother has off, and my parents can come help. That means I can do what I do best.

Pretend I'm working hard by achieving a pronounced scowl and letting everyone else do it all for me.

I am. A. Procrastinator.

Proof? Look at the time of this post...

...juuuuuuust in time for this NaBlaPoBlowMe thinger.