There's a showdown today at high noon. The sun is shining high off my back casting a long, dark shadow over whatever lies before me. More tension mounts with each minute that passes. Soon, the butterflies will arrive in full force and by 11:45, it'll be all I can think about. With about ten minutes to go, I'll nervously fumble around my desk. I'll get up, walk to the bathroom in a feeble attempt relieve myself of the nerves. It won't work. A few minutes left, I'll really be worrying about my office's shoddy network and archaic web browser. With seconds to go, my palms will be sweaty as I fumble with my wallet, trying desperately to pull out that rectangular piece of plastic. Stabbing at the keyboard, I'll pound in the pertinent details. Click Submit. ... Wait for it ...
If I win, KPD (soon to be) S and I will race the PA State CX champs on Sunday. If I lose, KPD (soon to be) S and I will still race the PA State CX champs on Sunday - the difference being that I'll have earned myself a $20 procrastination fee.
Why the hell do I do this to myself?
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