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I procrastinated this week. I was mulling over several topics and, before I realized, it’s 2 p.m. on deadline day and I haven’t started.
Some weeks are like that.
Usually I write this column on Friday ... Sunday night at the latest.
Mom would’ve told me I wasn’t committed to any of those topics. She’d be right. There should be some semblance of passion for what you’re writing; otherwise, it tends to be mushy dribble, little substance, zero effect.
Dad, on the other hand, would have told me to crank out a column right this minute. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Get the job done.
And here’s what I think. It’s -20 wind chill right now and the sun is shining, deceiving us with it’s bright silver lining. I think I’ll cut it short this week, wrap up the paper and ship it to the printer and curl up on the couch with a good book and a cup of cocoa.
When’s the last time that happened on a Tuesday afternoon?
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