In my efforts to avoid my real tasks for today, this morning I did the laundry, folded, put away clean clothes. Cleaned out the bag (i.e., briefcase with soft sides) and restocked it for next week (paper, pens, printouts, etc.). Found the keys to the car when I cleaned out my purse--they were tucked in underneath a bottle of water. (What was I thinking?) Also found a handful of change skulking in the bottom (I'm rich! I'M RICH!!) which lightened the load by a ton or two.

After these small but onerous tasks, I treated myself to lunch and the time to finish (at last!) Fortune's Favorites which ends with the deaths of Caesar's Aunt Julia and also his wife Cinilla in childbirth just as he is about to leave for further Spain.

Now I'm writing this journal instead of tackling the oeuvre de jour--the main task I had scheduled for today--which is to do January's financial records. You see, all the above was in the procrastination mode. Cras in Latin means tomorrow, and tomorrow I'm thinking would be a good day to....

But wait! Tomorrow I have to go back to work and I can't do my personal stuff at work (never have, though I see other people pay bills and such all the time). That's why I scheduled it for the weekend (which is almost over).

Rats. I guess I'll have to log off and hie myself off to my desk. Ave atque vale.