In a phonebooth we hide / The mailed piled at the door

Why, when I have more stuff on my plate than I can handle, do I agree to do more?

Why can’t I finish everything I start?

Why do dumb things get done when everything else waits til the last second?

Why am I bloggin about all the stuff I haven’t done, rather than just buckling down and doing it?

Title Credit: Hayden, We Don’t Mind / My Parent’s House, (1995)

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1 comment
  1. nate said:

    agreed.. I have empathy.

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