If I Know I'm an Idiot, Does it Make Me Less of an Idiot?

Okay. I have a pattern: there's something I don't really want to do. Usually something administrative, like filling in my student loan forms, or a funding application, or other paperwork for school. Or my thesis prospectus, or maybe my course description. And I know that really, it isn't that bad, but I don't want to do it. So I put it off. As long as I can. And I start getting anxious. As the deadline approaches, I start finding new and creative reasons not to do it--like absolutely needing to clean out my cupboards. Or weeding the garden. Or reorganizing the shed. You get the picture. Very necessary things that totally trump this looming administrative task. And I start to get worried. It keeps me up at night. I get stomach aches. But I still don't just sit my ass down and do this stupid thing that has me all stressed out until I absolutely have to.
And you know what? It's never, ever as bad as I think it will be. Ever. Take, say, my prospectus. Now, I have a SSHRC. My SSHRC proposal is essentially a draft of my prospectus. But I can't even convince myself to open the damn file for weeks! And then I do, work on it for an hour and a half, and email it off to my supervisor as a first draft. No problem. Suddenly all my stress problems are gone.
Or my course description--I know most of the students won't even read the damn thing anyway, but I wai until the firggin thing is two weeks overdue before I even start work on it! And you know what? It takes me, like an hour. A day later, a few good friends have looked at it, given me their feedback, and the thing is submitted. So easy. Why did I put it off?
Only, the worst thing is, I know I'll just do it again. Anf again, and again, and again, and...

Noah's Ark: Bursting at the Seams

Okay, I've finally figured out how many pets is too many pets. Four. Four is the breaking number. Mom is in the process of moving to Nova Scotia, and becuase it was really stressing Tilou out to see the house slowly emptied, Mom brought him to Halifax during her house-hunting trip and left him here. We figured, no problem--Tilou is a really good dog, right?
In theory, yes. Except that Ozzy can't pass him without hissing. And Tilou thinks that's awesome, so he gets all excited and starts barking and dancing and shit. And then Ozzy, who really just wanted to show his displeasure in a sort of desultory manner, gets really freaked out and upset and puffs out, swipes with his claw and runs away. Also, the dogs get jealous of each other. If you pet one, the other runs up to you. In fairness, Marlowe started it. But then Tilou thought, hey, that's a prety good idea. And then when one gets jealous, they both start barking and trying to edge the other out. And then when it's time to go outside, both dogs want to go first. And last. And each cries at the door when the other is outside.
Oh, and don't even get me started on the two-leashes-for-a-walk thing!