Procrastercation

It's the last day of winter vacation. I think I am ready, I saved up a bunch of nothing to do today and I have already made a decent dent in the pile. I am a 28th level grand master in the skilled art of not doing stuff. Right now, just as an example, I am not doing about 15 things, all of which really do need to be completed before tomorrow's alarm clock goes off at 5:55 in the ante meridiem.

I worry not, for worrying is also one of the things I am not doing today.

I live with a man for whom the phrase "down time" holds a completely different meaning. Husband is a man of many talents and, like Xena, seems to have lived many lives longer than his face allows. This is because the man never stops moving. Why just today he has sewn a skydive suit, possibly broken the bbq in an attempt to cook outdoors in -40, lost Meeker, found Meeker, destroyed Jeese's dignity with the application of new "Mutt Lucks - booties for your sensitive pooch!", and that takes us up to lunch time.

I slept in until 9 o'clock, made some toast and took a nap.

At this rate, Husband will likely have a rocket built in the basement before dinner time. And I might have just about figured out what colour we should paint it.