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The other day, I caught myself procrastinating—again.

So, of course, I found a way to further procrastinate. I Googled “How Not To Procrastinate.”

As I started typing “How Not To…” in the Search box, Google suggested a common “How Not To” search.

“How Not to Be Boring.”

That stopped me in my tracks. And prompted more procrastination.

First, I thought to myself:
“How sad is it that there are so many boring people in the world, it caused ‘How Not To Be Boring’ to be one of the top most-searched phrases?”

Then:
“And how sad is it that all those boring people have to literally search for ideas on ‘How Not To Be Boring’?”

Then:
“Well, at least we can be grateful that many boring people are self-aware. There’s nothing worse than a boring person who thinks they’re interesting.”

Wait—I don’t mean me!

I have a Stanford University sticker on my Subaru. They gave it to me as part of the $500,000 bribe we worked out for my son. Do you remember me from Full House? Kimmy. I’m a little better looking now.

I was offered the “Stanford Mom” sticker version, but I like to pretend that I can be mistaken for a college student, so I chose the straight up version.

However, I suspect this sticker may be backfiring on me. My intent was to promote the school with pride, only to have it result in my becoming hyperaware of my less than stellar driving skills. I used to think I was a good driver, but the sticker feels like a neon sign: “Perfect Person on Board.” It’s a lot of pressure.

For instance, if I have to wait too long to turn at an intersection, I do tend to pull out in front of people. As soon as I do I imagine them grumbling, “Hey, smooth move, ‘Stanford!'”

The pressure has gotten to be so much, that I considered removing the sticker. But then decided to look on the bright side. What if the sticker is convincing those around me that my questionable driving methods are actually to be modeled?

As I swerve from lane to lane, the other drivers could very well be thinking to themselves, “Hey, maybe this lady knows something about driving strategy that I don’t. I can tell by that sticker that she must be a genius or related to some sort of genius. I was going to honk, but I’ve decided against it. Smooth Move, Stanford!”

Yeah, I think that bribe was well worth it, just for that sticker.

Sorting through my purse this morning, I found a card that I vaguely remember buying a couple days ago: “Thinking of You.”

I do not know why I bought it.

At the time I bought it, I surely was thinking of you and how the card would brighten your day.

But I don’t remember why I was thinking of you.

Or who “you” are, for that matter.

Now I am concerned that you are out there waiting for me to send you a card letting you know I am thinking of you.

What if you get mad and never talk to me again, because of my obvious lack of thinking of you?

I guess that’s how I’ll know the card was for you!