May 25, 2008 § 1 Comment
There is little doubt that procrastination is an art. I have been finessing my “procrastinatory” skills for two days which included the following:
I needed to shop, for CDs of course, on which burn photos for an article. This involved bringing Snarl along; he is the consumate tech shopper. Naturally we were distracted by the PS2 Grand Turismo game at the store – lo and behold, no one else was around playing it and we stepped up to the controls and dug in.
HM needed assistance around the pool, getting the furniture cleaned up, the flowers potted and the patio swept. The dogs needed brushing and as they leaned into it, I could only keep going ’til their winter fur lay on the grass in piles fluffy enough to fill a pillow. I raked it all into a recycling bag, leaving a tiny bit for the birds who use it in their nests.
Then it was necessary to bake an apple pie. Pies make Snarl smile and prowl around the kitchen, conversing with me, telling me stuff I might not otherwise learn from him as I skin and cut the apples, shake the spices into the sugar mixture, squeeze some lemon and add three chunks of butter, building a pie as the oven preheats.
Then there’s all that laundry. I love doing laundry, separating the loads, using the bluing on the whites, hanging the non-dryer items carefully, folding things when they’re done while they’re warm so you can nearly brush all the wrinkles from them.
A friend stopped by needing help with a PC. I had just brewed coffee. We sat and talked, holding our cups and forgetting to drink as we caught up on our lives and newsy bits.
I cleaned out a cupboard, dusted all the candleholders in the house and filled the “blank” ones with candles. I did two interviews, talked with my Chicago nephew and ran errands with HM to the bank and pool store. And exercised.
And now it is time to sit in the chair and get to work on two manuscripts as the thunder roils like a backdrop in a bad movie. And once into it, by the third or fourth paragraph, I will smile and wonder why I do anything else but write.
Odd how a passion has us dancing around in front of it before settling down to apply ourselves.
When do you procrastinate?