You don’t have to ponder very deeply to come up with the conclusion that I really don’t want to get my work done. Not early, anyway. Monday I took time out to get a haircut. Tuesday I made an unnecessary trip to the drugstore. And today I took Mom shopping and to lunch, and then spent a couple of hours with her. And I must say, especially on a beautiful winter day that seems like spring, it was a much more rewarding way to pass the time than those tedious spreadsheets that will haunt my sleep for the next few weeks.

It cost Mom some money, because the reason she needed to go shopping was to get a new DVD player. But we found a pretty good deal, and I set it up for her, and now she’s all set to go. We even opened an account for her at Netflix and started filling up her queue. Her first movie (and this surprised me a little): Juno. Mostly she wants to watch musicals, which are few and far between these days (especially the old-fashioned stagy showbiz musicals, what with Howard Keel being dead and all).

Jane Powell is still around, but she doesn’t seem to work that much any more.

All of this fun stuff isn’t getting the tax returns done, or the financial spreadsheets ready for the accountant. I seem to have a death wish, or at least a deadline wish, or some genetic mutation that makes me want to do everything at the last minute, even if the last minute isn’t enough time. Somehow I always get it all done, but I keep testing the limits and pushing the boundaries. One of these days I’m going to have to buckle down and actually do it.

The Boss kept me bouncing around all morning doing various projects, so I didn’t feel bad about leaving for a few hours. I told him I was going, and he said “go.” It’s as easy as that. He almost makes it too easy to avoid work, but I know there’s a limit somewhere, and I don’t want to find out where it is. I’m lucky enough to have a job, and I’m even luckier to have this job, with its built-in flexibility. That works both ways, of course. I have to be flexible enough to find time to get the actual work done, even if it means working on off hours. I don’t sleep at night, and I don’t party on the weekend, so I don’t have a problem with the off hours.