When I told my husband, Troy, that I was going to be writing a piece about the art of dawdling, he replied, “I better read it. I don’t think I know how to dawdle.” And then after a pause he asked, “Have you ever seen me dawdle?” No, I don’t suppose I have. But maybe I’m not supposed to.

I submit that a resolution to embrace the fine art of dawdling may j…

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