Can we start November over? I wasn’t all the way ready. I’m supposed to have read about forty books by now this year. You know how many I’ve read? Maybe twelve, with four more started and scattered around the house, my car, work.

I’m supposed to have painted at least one new painting. Did I? No.

I’m supposed to be done with a novel and about a third of the way through NaNoWriMo on a new one. For those of you who don’t know, NaNoWriMo stands for National Novel Writing Month, which is November. You’re supposed to write 1667 words a day, and have a complete first draft by the end of the month. Today is the eleventh day of the month, and I have 4,343 words completed. I’m no math wiz, but I’m pretty sure that’s less than whatever 11 x 1667 equals.

Now, I have been known to crank out some pretty A+ work in 24 hours time after months of procrastination, like in college when I wrote a thesis in less than two days, but according to some people around me, I’m not 21 anymore. Which is apparently true, and a really big fucking bummer.

Nevertheless, in the past 24 hours my procrastination has included the following:

1 Reading at break-neck speed to try and put a dent in this stack of books next to my bed

2 Becoming a hero to my seven year old by kicking ass at old school Super Mario World 3

3 Washing dishes

4 Washing clothes

5 Finding and pretending to read the book “Organizing from the Inside Out,” which my best friend so helpfully gifted me

6 Planning dinner

7 Singing harmony to every single song Pandora has played, at the top of my lungs

8 Trying to do the math to see how many words I’ll have to write a day to meet the 50,000 word goal, if I don’t write another word until next Friday

9 Writing this blog and wishing someone would bring me some chocolate cupcakes

Might have to get started on that painting next…