A tired tale of procrastination

I had two major tasks to complete before tomorrow, when I head to Houston for a few days. I'll only be back in Chicago for one very quick day (and closing night) before I go home for good, so there will be very little time when I get back to complete said tasks. What are they? Finish making my Faust score pretty (why yes, that show DID close over a month ago—I don't want to talk about it), and pack up my apartment. Two tasks.

Here's what I did all weekend instead of doing either of those things: scrubbed pots and pans (have y'all heard of an S.O.S. pad? I had an unfortunate mac and cheese episode which involved a scorched roux and resulted in the bottom of one of my pans being completely burnt. A friend gave me one of these pads, and it was like magic! Apparently they clean ANYTHING! Anyway...), wasted time on the internet, went out to dinner with friends, read a book, took a driving tour of the North Side, caught up on my Hulu queue, and did French verb drills (Je suis sérieuse).

Which meant that today arrived, and I was in a panic to get everything done. Same old story. At the end of the day... I'm mostly packed and my Faust score is half done. The rest will have to be finished Saturday.

My brightest idea of the day was to walk to the UPS Store to ship a box of my stuff home. I looked at a map, and it seemed pretty close, so I hoisted up the box and set off on foot. Turns out, it was actually half a mile away, and the box I was carrying? Weighed 26 pounds. My arms were so tired by the time I arrived that I could barely sign my name on my credit card slip. Thank goodness my job doesn't involve any heavy lifting—I don't think I'm cut out for it.

For the rest of the week, I'll be leaving my tasks behind and winging my way to Houston to snuggle my kitten, smooch my CameraMan, celebrate happy hours with friends, decorate the apartment for Christmas, get a long-overdue haircut, and (oh, right) prep Tosca.

For once I don't feel like procrastinating at all.