"Done is art, Courtney. DONE is art."

That was the mantra my father repeated throughout my school years. The perpetual procrastinator, I left every project until the last possible nanosecond even when I should have known better. Dad would get home from a late rehearsal and see my work sprawled across the kitchen table and me, frantic and delirious, trying my best to produce a masterpiece. After sleeping fitfully for a few hours, he would return to the kitchen for an early morning snack of Triscuits or spicy V8 and I'd still be there, hunched over my work. He'd survey my mess, add a few encouraging words but always end with, "And you know Courtney, done is art."

Reasons Why Not Cursing This Lenten Season Has Been Difficult

1. Moving from our tiny loft apartment to an actual house. The effort to not curse while moving a U-Haul's worth of boxes across Dallas is Herculean.

2. Waiting for a dilatory TimeWarner cable repairman who showed up 3 hours AFTER his scheduled time only to announce he could not set up our cable because the house needed to be rewired. A few days later, two more repairmen came and fixed the problem in five minutes. Apparently, the first repairman didn't bother looking outside to see the wire had been unplugged.

What a Monday

I think my boss offered to be my life coach today.

My "unprofessional" personal habits, of which there are many, she alluded, include my perpetual tendency to yawn when tired and my stomach's audacious insistence to growl when hungry. She also dislikes my handwriting and is aghast that despite my efforts at self-editing I still misspell words and transpose numbers.

What a Monday.