The joy and despair of a procrastinator


Procrastination …  Ah, all those joyful hours spent trawling the depths of the internet, enriching my mind in far-flung places on topics of great importance now seem more like some kind of inter-web hypnotic trance.  But then again I do seem to thrive under pressure. I mean look at all the stuff I can get done at the last minute on no sleep, lots of sugar and lots of caffeine …
Oh sorry, I just had to make my bed, can’t work in an untidy area and well, I was running late this morning because I kept myself up till the crack of dawn worrying about all the things that need to get done and that so far are still major works in progress or still at the design stage or even worse just a great idea!
What do they say? Great ideas without execution are hallucinations? I feel like I’m tripping. Pablo Picasso had another good one, something like ‘the foundational key to success is action’!
Is it the heat? Well, pushing past 40 degrees in an office without aircon, where the fans are hurtling towards decapitational blast off (which may be preferable to looking at this To Do List) …
Seriously, the mundanity of the things that push in front of the things on the To Do List is shameful. Maybe if I share some of this shame I will be absolved and reborn a total ‘can doer’! Maybe there are just too many things on my lists… I certainly do enjoy a good list, writing, listing, projecting into the future, imagining the finished products… procrastinating, isn’t it?
So on a particularly busy day on the working-from-home front, my bed will be impeccably made, ready for some home magazine photographer no less to swoop in, a-flashing.  All my water bottles will be filled, lined up in a row and chilling in the fridge, ready for the sweat I’m going to break when I get around to fixing up that strawberry patch. Oh my god, my cat is so cute and totally needs to be cuddled and crooned till she looks at me like, ‘are you ok?’ and bolts out the window. Of course all the washing is done and god forbid if I have to go to the toilet or wash my hands by the mirror; all of a sudden the toilet needs to be scrubbed and I have plucked my eyebrows to within a centimeter of my hair line!
Now there are a whole lot of social obligations on the calendar coming up and in order to attend one must get one’s work done. It’s that boring, no dessert without eating your dinner type of deal. I’ve always been a savoury kinda girl but I don’t like sitting at the table when everybody else has gone off to do fun after-dinner type things, leaving me there to brood over my plate of pumpkin. So I’m going to take head of ol’ Picasso’s words, it seems to have worked for him …
Now where did I put it? Sheeeze, looks like I’ll start with writing another list.



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