No Hurry
Just figured out the problem
Cannot believe I wasted time doing that clicking on HuffPost to read “Why Procrastinators Procrastinate” then entering my email address and clicking subscribe to wait but why. Like the frustration of waiting just a few minutes for one who is always at least just a little bit late without exception, excuse, reason, self-consciousness or apology, procrastination is a sickness, a mental illness. Does having it bother me? Being one? Oh Yes, of course, yes indeedy, the bothering guilt is part of the package that makes true procrastination so miserable instead of the fun and carefree laidbackness that it may appear to real people.
Cannot believe I wasted time doing that clicking on HuffPost to read “Why Procrastinators Procrastinate” then entering my email address and clicking subscribe to wait but why. Like the frustration of waiting just a few minutes for one who is always at least just a little bit late without exception, excuse, reason, self-consciousness or apology, procrastination is a sickness, a mental illness. Does having it bother me? Being one? Oh Yes, of course, yes indeedy, the bothering guilt is part of the package that makes true procrastination so miserable instead of the fun and carefree laidbackness that it may appear to real people.
My office is a mess. So is the top of my dresser. It overflows to my downstairs “den.” On the triennial occasion when I knuckle down, throw out, straighten up, reflect yet one more time again that that only took ten minutes and look at how easy that was and how nice it looks now and why not keep it that way, I realize that I just wasted ten minutes, because by this time day after tomorrow it’ll look just the same as always so why bother, might as well endure the guilt and frustration. And dread paying my bills instead.
At least I’m always on time, innit. Unlike the rest of the week, there’s nothing on calendar today. Thanks to Nick Saban having the clock rolled back one second, I’m not preaching this coming Sunday, so can let sermon prep slide until too late Saturday evening, December 21. This morning I can open Kindle and finish reading Life Itself: A Memoir. I had been reading and savoring chapter by chapter, only going there when I needed a few minutes mental vacation, allowing myself one chapter at a sitting because I was dreading finishing it and having no other beach house to go to. But I’ll read it this morning. Either that or work through the Matthew nativity story in Greek and see if there are any surprises.
Jeremy and Tass put up our Christmas tree before they left Sunday, thus depriving me of dreading doing that for the next two weeks. Now I have nothing to dread at the moment, which may turn December into the wilderness of Lilith. It could totally immobilize me, because having no Christmas tree to dread putting up has destroyed my motivation to pull the vines out of the azaleas.
T