So here I am online at No-Longer-Snowy Duck Pond having a massive fit of procrastination. I have to say the camper looks very clean. I washed all the dishes including our new bowls and plates. I ate, but did not gorge unless you include a mere handful of triple ginger cookies I just finished with my get-down-to-business tea. I started writing a blogpost earlier about how much the new-PhD'd-me sucked and how maybe the campground was getting me down (which means me getting me down because I barely leave the camper, even for duck-visiting, because I really don't want to talk to anyone), when of course it is just that I do suck because I'm not working on the editing job that I said I would do. Why? Uh. No fancy reason like I feel like a fraud or anything, though I certainly could whip that into something if it would allow me to put off working on this job, but because basically I just don't feel like it. I've wasted a whole day when Absurdist Lover was working for his dad -- and now he will be here in any minute and I have done, well, nothing. Oy. I know better. I know the answer is to just sit down and do it, that being an adult means doing things you don't want to do, that I might even like it if I would just get on with it, but. why. is. it. so. freaking. hard. to. get. myself. started???
I have all these projects and time to actually do them. But am actually a sloth. Which means lots of accountablogging! Watch Earnest kick her own butt! Or kick herself when she's down!!
(Hark the herald! A new reason for procrastination: someone is playing the guitar! Like someone in the next camper! Is it time for a singalong? Can I come too?)