Now I realize that I am generalizing, because perhaps I just have some deep personal issues around organization, preparation, or general responsibility (I like to think of myself as unboundedly curious about the organic nature of day-to-day life; a virtue in some cultures), but allow me the release: I LIE TO MYSELF, PERPETUALLY, UNABASHEDLY, CONVINCINGLY.
I commit myself to the notion that I will work, truly labor, on this day when I have a choice to avoid anyone aged 16. But here I am, grinning stupidly, at how beautiful a fall day is in the Bay. So I lie, and cheat, and steal from my own sanity.
But I need to, and that is simple and unavoidable. There is plenty of brown, non-moldy space on my bread for tomorrow. I guess there's always this weekend.