Management by death-defiance (a poetic tale of procrastination)

In keeping with what they'd agreed
last week, she said she'd do the deed
of drafting up proposals of the project she would do.
But instantly, her twisted brain
Delayed the start, 'till it was plain:
Instead of having seven days to do it, she had two.

Two days! to draft a research scheme
And motivate the study's theme,
Delineate objectives, and assure the ethics board
that sampling would be just and fair,
that questions would be asked with care,
and that collected data would be quite securely stored.

In pondering just how on earth
she'd write it, and convey its worth,
(because she didn't want to generate something half-assed),
She drank some coffee, which was good
(Took longer than she thought it would)
Spell-checked a colleague's thesis...
"****"!
...another day had passed.

You'd think by now she would wake up
and smell the coffee from the cup
And panicking, write myriads of words to save the day-
and write a text that might at length
display some scientific strength
Skype meeting is approaching! merely two hours away.

She's waiting to accumulate
creative pressure (always late)
and force some inspiration to start working like a dog.
But inspiration tells her, "now
you've had your fun, you silly cow,
NOW GET TO WORK!"

And lo, she writes.
But puts it on the blog.