“Ughhh, I KNOW mom, I’m gonna do it!”

That was my go to response as a kid, no matter what the thing was my parents wanted me to do.

I’m sure they thought I’d grow out of it, but no such luck. I’ve still never met a deadline I couldn’t procrastinate on. I don’t even start eating the eggs in my refrigerator until just a couple of days before they expire.

If I hadn’t been born with a really good head for math, my procrastination issues would likely have me living in my parents’ basement, and I’m 45.

Instead, I’m kind of a rock star in the world of mathematical physics; a rock star who leaves everyone who counts on me to get thing done on time - my students, my editors, the college registrar, my husband - especially my husband - constantly frustrated.

But when you’re a “genius” everyone cuts you a lot of slack - “oh, he can’t be distracted by mundane things like getting grades in on time “ - everyone, that is, except your husband. He knows you’re just lazy and has no interest in excuses.

Today started out no differently than any other day. I was late to class, had to apologize to Steven for not paying the cable bill on time, the usual. Then my cell phone began chirping out the tune for Rocket Man. It was Cynthia, my boss at NASA. I teach full time at the college, but NASA is my side hustle. Cynthia is apparently being punished for some horrendous faux pas at work by having to try to wrangle me into line.

“Frank, got a minute?” It wasn’t really a question. I was going to have a minute, or 30 minutes, whatever Cynthia needed. “Of course, what can I do for you?”

“Have you been watching Star Gazer’s tik tok channel?”

“Are you serious, I only watch makeup tutorials on Tik Tok” I said with as much arrogant sarcasm as I could muster.

“Shut up Frank” said Cynthia, rightly annoyed, “this is serious. Star Gazer has been posting that he’s calculated the trajectory of the CX8906 asteroid and he thinks it is headed straight for earth. He’s projecting a direct hit in less than 100 days.”

I started laughing. “You mean to tell me that NASA is relying on Tik Tokers to find out the world is about to be blasted back to the ice age by an asteroid?!! Remind me not to sign up to fly on any ship you all design.”

She ignored my juvenile quips - I’m only a genius when it comes math; in all other respects I’m in 11th grade.

“That’s why I’m calling you. No one on our team can replicate Star Gazer’s calculations, but we don’t want to take any chances.”

“So you prefer the current plan, that humanity is wiped off the face of the earth by slowly boiling itself, like a crab in a pot?” I poked.

“Let’s argue the benefits of a quick death versus climate change another day. We need you to run the numbers and tell us if Star Gazer has it right. Can you do it?” Cynthia asked, even though it wasn’t really a question.

“I’ll do my best. You said they are projecting we have less than 100 days?”

“Yes, so we need this right away if we have any hope of diverting CX8906 from its course. Humanity is counting on you” Cynthia added for good measure, presumably worried that I’d manage to procrastinate even on this deadline.

“If humanity is betting on me meeting a deadline, I wouldn’t put my money on humanity.” I said, only half kidding.

She was right to worry. I don’t know where the time went, but I remember thinking what were the chances some kid on Tik Tok was accurately predicting the end of the earth when no one at NASA saw it coming.

Cynthia called numerous times as the days counted down - multiple times a day as the deadline to launch an intercept mission drew closer. Eventually I sent her calls straight to voicemail because I was tired of being badgered.

I set my an auto reply to any emails and text messages she sent me. A simple “I’ll get to it.”

Unfortunately, I didn’t. Stephen and I held hands as we watched the newscast. We were past the point of him yelling at me about causing humanity’s destruction.