Today was the deadline I set to find out how silly I could make a story, and the answer turns out to be: not very silly at all. Even when I set it, I knew perfectly well that I would be too distracted by the prospect of beer to get very far.
Sometimes, I manage to use the knowledge that I will avoid things, to find ways to make it easier not to avoid them. For instance, when another story got rejected last week, I was afraid to wait for the right place to submit it again, because I feared I would wait too long, but I was wrong. I knew myself well enough to make it easy to check every day, and yesterday when the opportunity rose, I sent the story right out.
So I’m going to count this deadline as one I missed because I put it in the wrong place.