Procrastinate (proh-kras-tuh-neyt): Meaning to put off until another day or time; to delay.

I learned to dislike this trait back when I was a 4-H’er, staying up late the night before a project was to be judged at the Nobles County Fair.

Posters — posters about health and safety and youth leadership — those were the projects that were put off until the very last minute. I could work on a poster at midnight and take it before the judge in the morning and they would never know I procrastinated. I couldn’t, on the other hand, procrastinate with my needlework because that had to get stretched and framed in advance.

Good or bad, I think I honed my procrastination skills through 4-H. Taking things down to the wire for entry day, I learned to prioritize my projects — what should be done first, and what could be held off until the very end.

Every year, the Daily Globe puts together an Annual Report edition. Each year it has a different theme, and this year we are focusing primarily on hometown heroes. Our assignments were sketched out five weeks ago, and with four features assigned to each reporter, I thought the best way to approach it was to do one of these extra stories a week, leaving the last week as a cushion.

Well, suffice it to say my typically organized self battled with that ugly word, procrastination. My cushion is here — the deadline is looming.

I went to work on Friday with three hometown heroes stories yet to write. All of the interviews had been done for a week; I just hadn’t found the time to sit down and write them.

Thank goodness Mother Nature came to my rescue this weekend. Instead of 60-degree temperatures that surely would have lured me outdoors, her ever-present winds, no-longer-pretty snow and the chill she sent seeping through the house were all conducive to sitting in my home office. With the shades pulled, the computer screen began to fill up with words as my fingers tappity-tap-tapped the keyboard.

Friday afternoon … one story finished; Saturday afternoon … another story finished; Sunday afternoon … well, I’m hoping I’ll be able to say I am finished. As is my annual tradition, I’ll let out a whoop and a holler and, as of yet, the neighbors haven’t complained.

So, I gave up most of my weekend for work. It was my own fault, really.

I suppose I could place blame — to Mother Nature for those 60-degree days that took me out looking for deer antlers; that Winter Reading Program at the Nobles County Library that encouraged me to read a dozen books between January and the end of March (I reached my goal a week ago without procrastination, I might add); and then there is that cross-stitch project I started in December that is getting oh-so-close to completion — I had to make time for that as well.

Now, here I sit — secluded and in silence. I’m getting my work done. The Crock-Pot was on all day Saturday, a pot of homemade chili simmered on Sunday and the teapot — the teapot is being put to good use.