I'm such a rush junkie. I live for endorphins. But mine aren't the good exercise endorphins, mine are the stress produced kind. You know, the kind you get when you wait till the very last minute to do something important?
I used to think it was just being lazy, or procrastinating that would get me in trouble. But the real trouble is that I usually don't get in trouble. Somehow, I always manage to pull the rabbit out of the hat. Now, being Catholic, I have to admit I have St. Anthony (the patron saint of lost causes, amongst other things) to thank for getting me out of my many scrapes. St. Anthony is one of the better all purpose saints for praying to in times of desperation. He was very good to me earlier this year when I was days away from a staging deadline at work. I think I even converted some of my fellow co-workers that day.
The point being, I just sent off my Golden Heart entry to Texas (For those of you who don't know, the Golden Heart is the big contest of unpublished romance writers) I paid my entry fee and registered well in advance. But the entry has to be in Houston by December 2. Even though my entry was completed months ago, I waited till today to fed-ex it out of Tallahassee. Why did I wait till the last minute? I can't say, except when I left the Kinko's building, I was smiling. I know, I'm sick...
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