Procrastination hurts—and I'm just gonna do it again.

Sliding down from an adrenaline rush, I am exhausted and nauseated. I keep putting off everything until I have to push important things aside for the urgent people-counting-on-me, can't-lose-my-job stuff. But why change what works? In thirty years, I'll still be relaxing until a second into the last minute. Then I will have a heart-attack and die.
The worst thing is—I think I let someone down today because of my procrastination. She needed my help and I slacked too long to give her my full attention. Usually, I don't drag anyone else into my personal procrastination purgatory.
Now, I need to write an explication of Œdipus Rex, The Importance of Being Earnest, Hamlet, or Death of a Salesman for tomorrow. I think I'll go take a shower.
I'm a glutton for punishment.