If All Else Fails, Get the Cat Stoned

I read a study once about delayed gratification. They took small children and gave them each a marshmallow. Then the experimenter left the room and told the children that if the marshmallow was still there when they came back, there would be another marshmallow in it for them. The point was to see what effect the ability to delay gratification would have on future success (it has a lot, actually--more than IQ or background or educational level). They didn't ask me to do the experiment...but I rather fear that if they had, I would have had the marshmallow nearly swallowed by the time the phrase "if it's still there" was even out of the guys mouth. I might have slowed down if the chance to roast the thing was in the offing...but maybe not even then. In other words, I am not superb at waiting for those things that I want. For instance:

I eat cookie dough until I am too full for cookies.

I drink coffee while it's still too hot and end up lisping around my burned tongue for the rest of the day.

I do the same thing with hot cookies, assuming I am not still full from the dough. And sometimes even if I am.

I noticed a mistake on the second Mt. Creek sock and have already, with only minimal denial, managed to convince myself that no one will ever notice because the alternative is to frog it back and thus delay knitting with my brand NEW sock yarn.

About 10 rows into the new sock yarn, I will want to hurry up and get finished, so that I can start on other new sock yarn. It's a sickness.

And on days like today I become quite impatient with the whole process of trying to become a nurse because I could actually be doing something useful today instead of pacing the house, burning my tongue, and lying to myself in a lisp about my sock. (And watching daytime television where everyone seems to have way more exciting lives than mine, even the ones on reality shows...which makes me wonder if their reality or my reality is the really real reality...which gives me a headache.) See, I only have three classes left before I can apply, and I'm taking one online and two in person on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which pretty much means I spend Tuesday and Thursday trying not to eat the marshmallows. Or cookie dough. Or something.

But you know, even on a lengthy, impatient day such as this, you can always get the cat stoned.

"Catnip? Where? I hadn't even noticed. I'm way above that kind of thing."

"Oh, you mean THIS catnip. Well, I can take a look...but I really don't care."

"Okay, maybe a closer look. Just, you know, for research. How do you get this thing open, anyway? Damn, why don't I have thumbs?"

"Here, why don't you put some down right about...here? Right where I'm pointing. You know, just a bit. Right here."

"Mmmm...saucy bouquet....notes of mint....barrell aged...piquant yet bold....mmmmm....good nip."

"Oh, Dude. I am so wasted......is there any of that cookie dough left?"

If you are old enough to remember Barney Miller, you may recall the episode where the cops accidentally ate "special brownies", and Sgt. Nick Yamata suggested somewhat blearily that perhaps they'd like to "go down to the beach and shoot some clams". I don't know why that cracks me up, but it does. And it pretty much sums up the state of my big drunk cat right now. I know. I'm a terrible enabler.