Procrastination is an art form . . .

How do I know? Watch a kid. They're professional stallers.

As a mom, an older mom whose kids show know better (there's the disclaimer), I've decided I shouldn't be required to answer stupid questions. After all, I got them to this age, successfully -- which means they still have all their appendages, can talk in full sentences, read full sentences, fuss with their siblings, and are intelligent enough to want a job that requires saying more than, 'Paper or plastic?'.

Stop! Don't send me hate email about how many of you worked in a supermarket. Face it. That's not a job any of US would want to repeat, nor would we want our kids stuck there.

All that said, stupid questions have been banned in my house.

Image my surprise the other day, when I was the guilty culprit of Stupid 101 and asked my kiddo why she'd procrastinated over a summer reading project until the very END of summer. She muttered around a half of dozen answers when I was suddenly hit by the figurative V8 hand and heard 'Duh!' rattle around my brain. She'd put it off because IT WAS EASIER. (Now, you understand the V8 thunk.)

Procrastination is an ART FORM because it's simply easier to put things off than do them immediately.

Does this revolutionary theory apply to kids only? If you answered, 'yes', V8 thunk yourself.

Who wants to rush into the kitchen after dinner and wash that sinkful of soaking pots and pans? Certainly not me. I've left pans soaking so long even the metal has pruned. ART FORM.

Who wants to swing into high gear and become the dusting fairy? Oh, please, if you do, email me straight away and I'll give you directions to my house. I've waited long enough to dust that my kids could use my coffee table as a chalk board (no chalk needed, just write in the dust) to figure their math problems. Not too depressing when it was simple math, but when there's enough dust for Calculus then procrastination has become an ART FORM.

If finally hit me squarely the other day when I tried to deposit a few royalty checks I'd been nesting on. My justification for bank-delay was that the checks weren't huge in monetary amount so no rush. Here's a banking tip: they really mean that whole we won't deposit a check that's more than 6 months old. And they're totally fussy about checks that were written in past years. Who knew? Oh wait, the bank said they'd supplied the answers in a pamphlet marked, 'Welcome to our bank. How to avoid extra fees, use the ATM and generally avoid doing anything stupid.' Yeah, I know I have that little treasure tucked away somewhere. I was about to read it. Really. I've only banked at this institution for twenty years -- give or take. Oops, ART FORM.

Tiny tip: the banks procrastinate, too. Deposit a check and try to get all your money at once. Ooooh no, they're waiting for funds to clear or the planets to align, whichever happens last by the way, before they'll dole out your own money. ART FORM!

All of this revelation has lead me to the conclusion that stupid questions can't be banned in my house. Inevitably, as projects follow summer, and kids procrasinate until the last minute, I'll be asking, 'Why did you wait so long?'

Psst, my kids don't know about the whole check issue. Let's just keep that on the DL (down low). It's not good for kids to know too much about their parents. It confuses them. That's my story and I sticking to it.

Happy writing every one. And if you're not writing today, 'Why did you wait so long?'

Drop by the porch again.
Until then,
~Sandra