The smell of hash browns wafts through the house as I sit by the fire contemplating Wurthering Heights and the musical prowess of Katy Perry. The large, calico cat relaxes at my feet, adding her two cents at intervals. I respond with gentle pats. My planner lays splayed open on the dining room table, telling me all I have to accomplish tonight, tomorrow, next week…
Finally, I achieve it. The long awaited delicate, meditative state of procrastination…
A supreme silence settles over me, the weight of the five-page essay is lifted off the shoulders and I am free….
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