I am as much of a procrastinator as anyone is. I do as much as I can at the very last minute. And I don’t do some things at all. Everyone procrastinates the same amount, I am sure. This is just human nature.

I usually go up to the house when I get home, then go down after a bit and tend to the horses. Today I instead immediately got out of my car, went down to the enclosure area, and fed then cleaned up after the horses. This gave me an extra fifteen minutes that would have otherwise been used to sit around and stare out into space.

Cathy matting pictures from wornout books

Time is always of the essence with me. My life is divided into hour long increments. I now don’t think that others think this way. I’m really tired and now know that I can deal with those who don’t subscribe to what I’m getting at.

I called around and sent our announcements about Sunday’s award, the time and place included. Most people are busy and so are those who are not busy.

The evening is progressing, and I am working hard here, in an attempt to keep myself from falling asleep.

The former banquet room of the historic eagle hotel is now the Bright Lights Book Project literacy center. Today, volunteers again came and were pretty self-directed. Robert cleaned books for a while and then gave me an assist moving stuff around so that we could have more space. Pete had gone to Anchorage to pick up the books from White Mountain School. They were dropped off in Nome and we got the call this morning that they were here in Anchorage.

I usually stand at my bookcase desk and write from there. Tonight I am so tired that I fell asleep as the letters rolled on. I woke up, and the screen was full of them. These letters should be memorialized, somehow, someplace.

All I can now think is how good it will feel to fall into bed.

I did get my hour of writing in this morning. Writing every day is like following a thread of thought. I continued on with my ideas about partnership, using example to support my claim that the organizations I mention have resulted in the BLBP being quite well known and I would like to think, respected.

I wrote about being a member of the Palmer Lion’s Club. It’s so odd, to do something like this and see nothing out of the ordinary about it, then when you go and write about it, you discover that the self-lens finds it to be quite odd.

And it could be because I think it’s odd that I have had a detached perspective. And it’s because I have had a detached perspective that I am the odd one out. I’m not sure whether or not I am going to mention this in Shelf Life. But here it is, for those who read the book and want to learn more about me.

Next: 188. 7/11/25: Switching Gears