I'm not to be trusted

I'm not to be trusted. That's right. I'm so incapable of managing my own internet usage that I had to email Heidi, my webdesigner, and ask her to change my MySpace password...and not tell me what it is!

That's right. I'm that pathetic.

So, if you too aren't to be trusted with time--the very stuff of which life is made--may I recommend the following (all of which I have actually tried):

--hide all TV remote controls

--hide all phone cords so you can't get online

--put TV remote controls and phone cords in car trunk because--let's face it--you're totally going to know where you hid them, but you're less likely to go out to the car if it requires putting on shoes.

--leave good computer at work and write on old non-internet compatable computer

--put self on the "dryer" schedule, where you do laundry and are only allowed to get up when the dryer sounds and it's time to fold and sort

--work in public places where friends know to make you feel guilty if you walk around too much



All-in-all I'm starting to get really envious of that guy in Misery: an isolated cabin with no phone, internet, or TV and a woman who brings you food and pain medication. Exactly how is that not ideal?


--Ally