Oh, fuck it.
I leave for camp in two hours.
There goes the bit of pseudo-philosophy I was planning to pen. There never quite is that plenty of time left in which to do things, if you keep saying it.
Procrastination is a very boring and seemingly harmless sort of sin, isn't it? The movie Se7en, if you've seen it, would never have worked if it had featured Procrastination. Because it's never going to kill you. While the rest of the sins are all grisly bodies and eternal damnation, Procrastination's sort of in the corner going: "Uh, alright guys. I'll quit smoking next week."
Still, bad. Very bad. In a hamster with fedora, shades and cigar kind of way.
So, ten days it is. Barring unsavoury encounters with amorous jungle animals, I'll be back then. I'll just take a quick nap now before I leave. I do have my uniform to look over, field equipment to pack, phone batteries to charge, toiletries to package and alarms to set. Oh, and I should get around to checking about my make-up pay.
But hey, plenty of time.
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