Sticky Notes - You up?

The TL;DR...

Being that I'm just now sitting down to write –– it's 2 a.m. here in New York –– I'm pushing the deadline for Don't break the chain to noon tomorrow, which means that if you're a God awful procrastinator and you've yet to sign up, you still have the chance to right your wrongs by pulling out your billfold and making a bet here.  

The whole story...

I had every good intention of writing and sending this email earlier this afternoon. But, in the midst of writing it, I looked at the clock and saw that time had gotten away from me.

Time has a way of doing this when you're either in love or practicing a vocation you love. I suffer both complications, I'm afraid. 

I had meant to get my girl flowers around 2 p.m. but, just like that, 2 p.m. turned into 4 p.m. and I suddenly found myself hightailing it down Madison Avenue in search of a florist. 

The two of us had a dinner party she was expected at and while she was well on her way to getting ready, I hadn't even begun the first of the three S's.

[Side note: Something I love about New York is the flowers on the corner. I love that there are so many people buying flowers for one another so often, that it's appropriate to have hundreds of them on just about every corner of every intersection.] 

I eventually found a florist –– surprisingly not on a corner –– and I carefully [but quickly] picked nine or ten different kinds of flowers varying in shades of purple, violet and lavender. 

I then asked the florist to turn the dazzling bunch into a bouquet, which he did with an extreme amount of enthusiasm while lecturing me on the proper way to care for hydrangeas. 

If, like me, you aren't familiar with the proper handling and caring of hydrangeas, let me tell you that they're quite high-maintenance, demanding that you cut their stems to an almost awkward shortness, blanch them in warm water and then dunk them in cold water. Or vice-versa? I can't recall.

As the florist was giving me these instructions they were going in one ear and out the other because caring for them sounded like an awful amount of work. 

This brings me to my definition of passion...

One's passion is an activity that feels like fun to them but like work to others.

I love flowers and I love that there is an occupation that sees to flowers being on every corner of New York. But, I'm damn glad I don't have this occupation because blanching hydrangeas feels like a tedious responsibility that I have no interest in taking on. 

All that to say, if writing every day for 29-days straight sounds like your idea of hell on Earth, Don't break the chain isn't for you. 

But, if it sounds like a fun challenge and, perhaps, even play...

Class starts at 2 p.m. CDT Tuesday, May 3rd.

Yes. That's tomorrow. Yes. I had to push the time back some. Yes. It's because your professor will be a bit hungover from his girl's dinner party. 

Godspeed,

Cole. 

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