Patricia Comb
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PROCRASTINATION

6/11/2017

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I think I would be correct if I said that we all have a certain image of ourselves, as in perhaps a cheerful, positive person, or an action man/woman, or laid-back couch-potato type, or maybe even a dissatisfied Eyore. I am sure there are many combinations. I have always been a 'don't put off until tomorrow what you can squeeze into the next half-hour' type. 'Do it now' has been my watchword. Spouse is rolling his eyes even as I type the words, having been on the receiving end of Mrs Actionwoman for far too many times than he cares to remember.

   However, I have noticed a certain change in my behaviour of late and I have not as yet come to a firm conclusion as to the reason why. I have gone from being a 'do it now' merchant to a 'mmm, maybe not today' lady. I have become a procrastinator extraordinaire.

   Here's a 'for instance'. Having moved to a new home recently I have a 'to do' list, which incorporates a 'to contact list,  'to find' list and a 'get on with it soon' list. The list lurks on the kitchen worktop and I peer guiltily at it when I pass. I am getting to the stage when I slink past it like a naughty child - if I close my eyes I can't see it and so can't be reminded of what I should be doing instead of what I am doing, which is not a lot.
   Unluckily for me, it is not only THE LIST that glares balefully back at me. In our new bedroom, which is a large, light and airy room, there are a distinct lack of wardrobes. In fact, we don't have any at all. At present, we have some clothes rails to hang our extremely expensive designer and coture clothes upon. (I lie, dear reader, we do not own one piece of coture clothing between us). But our glad rags hang there, a reproach to my current procrastinating tendencies. I am supposed to be organising fitted wardrobes - I think they're an item on my 'to do' list.

   And then there is the little matter of my Office. Only it's not a 'little matter' at all. A paper-mountain awaits sorting out in there and I hope one of these fine days to work my way in, to find the file with the plot of my next book.  But that fine day has not arrived yet and again, I slink guiltily past the door, trying my best not to think about the chaos within.

   Procrastination is very tiring. If I put half the amount of energy into getting on with things and actually getting them done as I do into not doing things, I could probably conquer the world, well, at least a bit of North Yorkshire.  Instead of which, I drift about the place, watching the wildlife and pulling out the odd weed in the garden and watching the grass grow.  'Never put off until tomorrow' is a fading memory. At present I am a 'let's not even get started' person.

   Mulling this new procrastinating behaviour over, a ray of light begins to dawn on me. I have just finished writing a book and when I'm busy writing, like everyone who works, it's all a bit of a juggling act, balancing the work with the multitude of other life tasks and pleasures awaiting out there. So you get a wiggle on and make the most of every nano-second.

   But, I'm having a break from writing - a holiday - a step away from the daily rush of life and I think my poor old brain cell does not know what to make of all this spare time it has. For sure, there are plenty of things to do, but there's no hurry to do them, yawn, so why do them at all? No hurries? Then, no worries,  it will still be there tomorrow.

   By then I might be lying in my new hammock on the lawn and the house-elf will have been in and sorted out all the things on the 'to do' list and I won't have to procrastinate about them any more, (in my dreams). Then I can start procrastinating about starting a new book, assuming the house-elf found the file in my jungle of an office. Are my brain cells ready for it yet? Maybe, maybe not. I need to go and lie in the hammock some more, just to be really sure ..... 

   
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