Sitting at home on a crappy August’s day with an assignment due in the coming days my brain should be going into work mode, but ahh yeah nah. You see I should be at the uni library in town, my fingers pitter-pattering away on the keyboard being constructive in the development of my assignment. But there’s one problem: I can’t be bothered to brave the rain to get there.
So, here I am sitting in the kitchen listening to the radio, a copy of Real Groove tantalisingly close, and the internet calling out to me.
To be honest it’s pretty good that I even got this far. Hell I’ve already done a wee bit of my assignment; the notes are all around me, conveniently covering up the newspaper. But as I said before, I’m impressed I got this far today. A party the night before coupled with a cold bearing down on me made getting out of bed this morning a tough task. Also, I couldn’t help but have a little blast on the PlayStation this morning too, it was just there. Staring at me. Willing me to play. “Just one level monsieur! Shoot a few bad guys before making your mind up, please I implore you monsieur!”
Yes, I’ve decided that my PlayStation is French for today. But the Xbox will always be its fat American cousin, spitting tobacco juice into the bucket, wheezing loudly whenever it has to do any work.
Do you see what’s happening now? My imagination’s spiralling into a hypnotic state of overdrive where I can get carried away with anything that pops into my head.
It’s almost three o’clock now, the day’s practically done and I just got a text from a mate telling me to come round to for a few beers before the 21st tonight. The thought to say “bugger it, I’ll just do this tomorrow” certainly does come to mind, after all I can get (relatively) free parking in town on Sundays anyway.
I told you procrastination’s a bitch.