Procrastination

So obviously I should be doing something productive, you know, like working through the crap chapter I'm stuck in, but I'm finding it rather hard. And yes, it is almost 0300. Normal people are asleep, but I'm sitting here wasting time not working.

Procrastination is probably my worst trait. Well. It's a close tie with my love for gossip. I ♥ chisme! But I think that's a cultural thing. Or a female thing. Or maybe a combination of both? Who the hell knows....

So what have I been doing rather than writing? Comparing dog foods (you would not believe some of the crap that goes into dog food. seriously. they put dogs and cats in dog food. it's called bone meal. ick!), reading up on neuter surgery after-care and housetraining a puppy, reading reviews of my friends' latest books (i suspect that a lot of snarky reviews are written by struggling writers unable to snag an agent or place a manuscript with an editor,) making new friends on Myspace, working on a genealogy chart for a character in my next book, comparing washer/dryer prices, putting together Dave's homemade carb-conscious meals for the next 3 days, and planning our moving schedule. Oh, and I've got Season 3 of the Golden Girls blaring in the background on my laptop. I ♥ the Golden Girls!

Anywho. I think I'm going to try to get a few pages written. I won't be able to sleep if I don't. I'm going to need my sleep for tomorrow. I may have to engage in mortal combat with the UPS man if he broke our new dishes (a wedding gift from Suzie & Freddie.) That rat bastard in brown shorts has dropped/misplaced his last package addressed to me.

I have never in my life had such a difficult problem with a delivery man. He's still delivering packages (most of them dropped and beaten up) to the apartment office without leaving a notice on our door. Hell he didn't even have the decency to make sure that boxes clearly marked perishable were delivered by the office staff the day following his attempted "delivery." You would have thought that after the Lane Bryant Dress Debacle and my chasing him into the back of his truck (in my PJs, barefoot and brandishing a chancla) that he would have gotten his act together, but nope.

Looks like I'm going to have pull out the Big Guns this time and corner him with one of Dave's workboots...