He looked at his watch. It was nearly 10:00! Clint dropped his book and scrambled to the computer. What was it he had to do again? That’s it! He had a biology paper due tomorrow. Pushing some papers off the desk, he quickly opened Microsoft Word. He sat there for a few minutes, thinking about how to start. Finally deciding, he got to work. The minutes ticked by, it was 11:32. Clint drew his hand across his face, wishing he had started the assignment days ago.

  Procrastination had always been a problem for Clint Thompson, and as he’d moved on to high school, it had just gotten worse. Every day his teachers handed him some homework assignment or other, and Clint would just drop it into the quickly accumulating pile on his desk at home.  There was usually something due the next day, but that was the easy stuff, he could finish it after dinner.

  He always told himself the same thing; “I have time, it will only take a couple of hours.”  Of course, the longer he waited the more he dreaded it, so the more he avoided it. It was only the night before the homework was due that he really shifted his gears. He would rush to his computer, stare for a few minutes, and start typing. He never finished before 12:00, and his work was poorly done, but next day he would hand in his papers. The biggest problem with this whole routine was that  with 3 or 4 things to hand in at different days of the week, it seemed like he was always doing school, and his nerves were almost always on edge, worried that he had left it just a little too long.

  The only day he really relaxed was Saturday.  Even though he knew he should be getting ahead in school, he would push the thoughts out of his mind and call up his friends. He knew he should break this habit, but it was so bad that he would block even these thoughts from his head.   He sat in front of his screen, staring at his finished paper. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was nearly 1:00, and stumbled up the stairs to his bed. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  The alarm went off. Clint groaned, reaching a hand out to turn it off.  He turned over, willing himself to get up. After a couple of minutes he got out of bed and stood up, feeling more tired than when he’d gone to sleep. He slowly got dressed and plodded down the stair to the kitchen. While he poured himself a bowl of cereal, his 13 year old sister Annette came in, grumbling something that resembled the word “morning”.  They both sat there a few minutes silently emptying their bowls. Clint abandoned his half empty bowl and headed out the door with a mumbled good bye to his sister.