The palatability of procrastination enables me to evade for just so long. In the morning though, the aftertaste of indecisiveness lingers, from a tormented night of lock-jaw anxiety. A list of what I put-off reads Ike a psychosomatic cook book, or a book dealer's inventory of used 'Self-Help' books.
I still struggle with calling the US trying to eliminate my dead wife's name from our savings plan. How I hate the inner city drawl of middle management do-nothings, who have me perform like a circus bear yet provide nothing, but a promise to send further forms to fill.
How I hate to deal with the automated web-forms on my overseas domain server. I allow myself to be victimized by their self-concerned sales team, and absentee tech support. Instead of carrying my revenging angel out into the open, so that he may spread his wings and bring wrath upon my enemies, I linger in altered states of denial... perennial procrastination.
Only when the pain gets unbearable does the dental work get done.