I leave everything to the last minute. It seems sensible at the time - until the last minute arrives and I realise, whoops, it's not long enough.
Monday I have my book launch - have I mentioned that? Oystermouth Library, 7.00 pm? (My boss has thoughtfully arranged a church meeting to clash with my launch so I won't have to worry about too many people coming. He's supportive like that.)
And tomorrow morning I'm leading the service in prison. Two big things, both need preparation, and I've got to fit in food shopping and a party tonight. (I'm delighted to go to Debs and Nick's 25th anniversary do, I just wish it wasn't tonight.) But, as I said, it's my own fault for leaving it until now.
I've prepared the talk for prison; I just need to rehearse it and tweak it here and there. And then I've got the rest of Sunday - oh bother, Father's day, I have to look after Husband in the absence of children. Perhaps we'll postpone it a week ... or two.
And, really, I shouldn't be procrastinating now. I'll just quickly check my emails before I go and shower ...