In it, you not only acknowledge some redeeming characteristics of procrastination -- calling "positive procrastination" an actual thing -- but you cop to being a procrastinator yourself. Guess what? I am too! And I think we can both agree that there are far worse things than procrastinating. Like chewing with your mouth open. What are you, an animal?
Anyway, back to procrastination. I don't think persimmons are in season anymore, but I promise you they were, back in November. That's when I hacked my own Ripe Persimmon Apple Radicchio Stacks into salsa with the aid of a sharp knife and a looming deadline. Nothing like procrastination to inspire the laborious chopping of fruits and vegetables into fine dice, a task that takes slightly longer than forever.
A few tortilla chips later, that salsa was safely ensconced in my belly, and the deadline was still unmet. Slicing and dicing wasn't the best use of my time, perhaps, but when persimmons call, you answer.
Look, I meant to tell you about this sooner, back when persimmons were good and plenty. It's too late now, I suppose.
Wait.
Maybe I'm not late at all.
Maybe I'm three seasons early.
Maybe, just MAYBE, I'm a precrastinator, not a procrastinator.
I'll get back to you later, once I decide.
