Isn't it strange how when you have lots to do, you seem to find an interest in things that wouldn't normally hold your attention for so much as a second.
I am currently bogged down with important work-like things I should be cracking on with, so the obvious assumption is that I am feverishly thrusting fingertips at my keyboard in an attempt to chip through the outer shell of this work-load. This assumption is incorrect.
What I am doing instead is taking my penchant for procrastination to a new level. Evidence of this is all around me; most immediately the fact that this blog window is eclipsing the rather unstructured, almost unintelligible essay that sits behind it. I fail to care. It's boring and writing this (as opposed to reading it) is currently not.
Another clear indication of my urge to be distracted is my watching of 'Katie and Peter' on the telly box (don't pretend you have seen it, it's the reality show about a married remedial couple. One's got really big tits and the other one pretty much is a really big tit. They're quite good together in that respect). Usually I would use this to write a scorning diatribe about how much I hate the world of celebrity and it's bastard child 'reality TV', but that would be too much like work. Instead I am pretending to care about Jordan's surgery woes. The program suggests that after a recent operation (presumably mammary related) her life is in severe danger. I know she doesn't die - It would have been featured in the news right ? - I also know that if she had died It wouldn't be a valid excuse for not meeting my deadline, but still; here I am, watching.
As an interesting aside to this, Peter Andre is recording new tracks. I'm looking on with anticipation as he road tests one of his new opuses in an L.A club. Upsettingly, people are actually dancing to it. When will we learn? If we keep encouraging him, HE WILL NEVER STOP. There's such a thing as being cruel to be kind you know. I might send him a 'cease and desist' style e-mail...that's probably more important than the work I'm avoiding isn't it?
5 minutes pass. I avoid writing the e-mail by finding something even less important to do. The program is reaching an end and I feel panic set in as I begin to run out of distractions.
"I just want to die" Jordan says in front of two of her small children. No, she hasn't just heard one of Peter's songs, her operation is still causing her pain "Mummy's boobies are so sore" She says to another child, who's vacant expression suggests he neither cares nor fully understands. I wince, swallow my pride and prepare to get back to work.