Procrastination

Well, three days and counting and I have so much work to do before we can blow this five-cent-Popsicle-stand and land in Jamaica. I need to clean, pack, organize, clean, get the backpacks set up, clean, draw up instructions, clean, shop for groceries, clean, make some phone calls, do laundry, clean, make lists and clean. So far I've... not done any of this. Oops.

It's not my fault, really. Right, Mom? Procrastination is a genetic defect that was passed down to me (along with my funny nose, less-than-perfect skin, and early gray hairs,) which should have been drowned out by a recessive gene somewhere along the way. But, no, it's all mine now, and I admit it. I will, however, be working like a tornado come Wednesday afternoon, and my kids will be relieved when I finally leave after the craziness that will have ensued.

-------

Just a little side-note, and some of you have heard this rant so be patient with me, but who ever heard of a band that wont play "Mustang Sally?" This song is MY song, ever since I lived in Chicago(land) where my co-workers referred to me as "Long Tall Sally" but sang parts of this tune whenever I approached. Well, when I went out with the girls on Saturday night, the (lame) band refused to play the song for me, and after much questioning finally admitted that they hated the song and refused to sing it under any circumstance. Up to that point, I had kinda liked the band. After that, not so much.