Procrastination ... my evil mistress

The blank iPad screen is staring back at me ... laughing ... mocking. The cat’s looking at me funny too.

It’s approaching midnight, and I have nothing to write about. In a few short hours, I have to send something to the editor in order to meet my deadline. This might be a long night. I’m not really worried yet. My dad has always said that I have a knack for being able to fill this column up with all sorts of fancy words and yet say absolutely nothing about anything. I like to think of that as a compliment.

Usually something happens in the hours and days prior to the writing of this column that I deem worthy of rambling on about. A couple of weeks ago it was about the illegal pilfering of muffin tins from my neighbor’s residence. Before that, it was about that same neighbor’s dog’s penchant for frequent urination. At other times I’ve verbally meandered about inadvertent selfies, pecan pie recipes and my older sister’s horrible clarinet skills. I pretty much only write about really important stuff.

But this week ... I’ve got nothing. Or at least nothing that has inspired my muse. I blame it on the nice spring weather and/or possibly Hillary Clinton. So here I sit, with my deadline creeping closer and closer. Tick, tock, tick, tock ... the clock echoes in my ear, which is strange because I have a digital clock. The cat is doing nothing to help. This might be a long night.

Well, it is now 12:48 a.m., and I’m starting to get a little nervous. I accidentally sat on my glasses the other day, but that doesn’t really seem like Pulitzer Prize-winning material. No ... there surely has to be something better to talk about than that. I think I’ll watch some television for inspiration. This might be a long night.

Whoever would have thought that reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond” could be so addictive at this time of night? OK ... now it’s time to hunker down and get serious. What should I write about? Hmmmm ... I could really go for a snack right about now. Who am I to argue with my stomach? This might be a long night.

It is about a quarter after two now; my tummy is full, and my mind is rejuvenated from watching the replay of last night’s Chicago Bulls’ playoff game and another episode of “Raymond.” My creative juices should really be flowing now. Here’s an idea — I can’t really prove it, and I don’t have the numbers to back it up, but I think that I blink more often than I used to. No ... I better save that story for a slow day. This might be a long night.

It’s about three in the morning now, and I still have no clue on how I’m going to fill these column inches. Wait ... I do have an idea on how to fill that space. And it’s a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very good idea on how to fill up this column. I repeat, a very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very good idea. I think I’ll reward myself by watching some “Pawn Stars.” This might be a long night.

It’s late enough now, that I don’t dare look at the clock, or I’ll just get all depressed. I need to plow through this writer’s block, and I think that I have just the topic to expound upon. I will write about ... what ... what the heck is that smell? Where is it coming from? Oh my gosh .. I think it’s ... yes, it is definitely my left armpit. Whoever knew that writing could be so strenuous and stinky? I can’t create in this atmosphere. Old Spice deodorant, here I come.

OK. The sun will be up soon. I’m getting tired of watching these infomercials. It’s go time. It’s now or never. It’s time to get serious and write the kind of column that I know that I am capable of writing. A very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very good column.

But unfortunately, according to the little word count thingy on this iPad, I am finally getting close to hitting my word limit to fill this column. I guess that very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very good column will just have to wait until next time.

Well what do you know? Evidently, my dad has been right all along. This might be a very, very, very, very, very, very long day.

You can contact Wallace at gregwallaceink7@gmail.com. You can follow him on his blog at http://gregwallaceink.blogspot.com.