The Art of Procrastination

A nice diversion that's a little addicting

I am a master procrastinator. It’s my Achilles heel. I can put off a task for days on end, finding better things to do with my time (most of them things I’ve blown off in the past and am now tackling to make sure I don’t have to do the one thing I’m trying to avoid).

Right now, I’m not studying for a test. I know I need to and my logical side keeps reminding me about this particular exam’s high failure rate, but my emotional side doesn’t care. It wants to have fun.

Today, I allowed myself to get sucked into an hour of Chuzzle (which I’ve never played before, but it’s quite fun. Especially when you’re putting off the torture of taking practice tests on the computer.) After I won once, I swore I’d log off, but then I had to beat my high score.

Next, it was the treadmill. My justification for this little diversion was that exercise is good for the mind. Forty-five minutes later, I found myself mesmerized by the ice skating I was watching and sat down to stretch. Needless to say I lost a little track of time.

I’d be ready to study after I cleaned up. But first, I thought I’d indulge in an exfoliating face mask and eyebrow tweeze. I spent some time searching for a new razor blade (which forced me to clean out the cabinet), took a long hot shower and spent a half hour blowing my hair straight.

I can honestly say I’ve lost half the day. And, here I am blogging. Procrastinating some more.

I’ve been a procrastinator for most of my life. I actually think I’ve mastered the art. It takes a lot of practice to blow things off for days (and sometimes months at time. Just ask my CPA. I don’t get scared until October rolls around).

That’s how I control my procrastination. When there’s a deadline looming in the future, I force myself to get motivated. So, I deadline myself all the time on basic tasks that I don’t want to do.

The problem with studying is I haven’t set the date for the test. I’ve thought about it lots (especially when I was moving the week-long class forward in my schedule because I “just didn’t have time.”) and I know I need to commit. But, once I do, then I’ll have to study. And, I just don’t want to…today.

So, tomorrow’s the day. I’ll go online and set the dreaded date. Then I’ll be motivated to study.

But now, I’m going to pay some bills, check in with my Facebook friends and possibly clean out my closet. Then I’m going to have a snack and play another game of Chuzzle. I’m going to enjoy procrastinating a little longer.


A Blizzard? Not Real. Snow Day? No Big Deal

“When I was a kid, we never had snow days. I’d stand on the corner and wait for the bus in drifts as tall as you. And, you know what, the buses always ran; didn’t matter how much snow there was. They could always make it.”

I’ve told this story to Rosie at least a hundred times (I’ve counted the eye rolls so I know that’s accurate). And, she’s never believed me. To her, it sounds like one of those “I walked backwards, both ways, uphill” stories from the olden days. But, it’s the God’s honest truth.

I grew up in Peoria, Illinois and went to school in the infamous District 150. Every year we’d have lots of snow and we’d wish for every child’s dream come true- a snow day.

After each storm, we’d watch the news in nervous anticipation. We’d pray that this would finally be THE storm to have our day to play. Alas, it was never to be. While school was shut in every district around us, 150 trudged on. I swore our Superintendant was a scrooge.

I grew up and moved south to a land that has snow every year, but not like the storms of my youth. Usually, we get a couple of feet spread throughout the season; mild compared to what I experienced growing up. But, guess what? EVERY time it snows we have a snow day.

We wake in the morning with three inches and the entire town is closed. The night before, there’s a run on all the stores for bread and milk. People actually cancel appointments and children make play dates the day before. It’s amazing. No wonder my child doesn’t believe my stories.

I’ve told her of the one year that we got lucky and actually had snow days (the only ones I recall in my twelve years of school). I was Rosie’s age when the Blizzard of ’79 hit dumping over 16 inches of snow in one day. It shut down everything in town; including school.

But, once again, she’d roll her eyes. I can see the thoughts swimming through her head: “There’s no such thing as a blizzard. It must be a made-up concept, since we only have little storms and mommy and daddy aren’t afraid of the snow.”

This week, we had snow in the forecast. Yesterday, it was upgraded to a blizzard warning. When I told Rosie she made plans to play (further proving that she thinks a blizzard is a made-up concept by her middle-aged mommy that doesn’t know what she’s talking about).

To further affect my credibility, we awoke this morning to a light dusting of snow (causing me to laugh that they’d already cancelled school the night before). We were able to drive around town, go to the store and it honestly didn’t look like much. Both of us surmised that the meteorologists were wrong. Then it kicked in.

It began to snow harder. The snow swirled wildly as the wind blew. The windshield wipers froze as we drove. It was about to get nasty.

The Blizzard of Oz was about to begin (I myself had fondly called it Snowtorious B.I.G.). And, I was about to prove that the snows of my childhood did exist. And, that there is such a thing as a blizzard.

It’s been going on all day and we’re finally at least a foot of snow into it and the entire town’s shut down. My child could care less. She doesn’t want to go out and play because she doesn’t feel well and it’s too cold and there’s too much snow.

Plus, it’s not a big deal. It’s not like the big blizzard is delivering the much awaited snow days of her youth; they miss school for a couple of inches all the time.

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