I am chest deep in procrastination.
It is like wading through a pit of mud and muck, and well, my desk looks like a swamp.
And the procrastination is so thick, that I have neither the resolution nor the energy to perform simple tasks like dialing the phone or charging one of my fifty i-products. In fact, I had to chug 16 ounces of coffee just to have enough strength to turn on the computer.
This has been going on for three days.
On Monday, I thought, well this is what the Monday blues feel like.
On Tuesday, I thought, well maybe, just maybe I am suffering from some sort of seasonal mood disorder. Yet, I lacked the self-concern to Google the symptoms or actually contact a medical professional.
And today, my husband asked me if I was applying to be on Hoarders.
While I secretly would love to be considered for a reality program showcasing insane people, I am just procrastinating; avoiding several elephants in my room that need peanuts or that little spot behind their ears scratched. It is the start of a new year--which means new projects, old projects and just projects. The list contains no less than 553 items. Nothing is crossed off. And everything takes more than five minutes to complete. Everything is as big as an elephant and just as stinky.
And I don't want to do anything.
That list is heavy. It weighs me down. It is like wearing a pair of cement shoes in a hot tub--you cannot get out, yet you are not really in danger of drowning; you are just getting all pruney and sweaty.
I hate prunes. I hate that list. I hate procrastinating. And I actually hate Hoarders.
So, enough with it all. No more pruney fingers. No more lists. I am burning my to do list. (figuratively, I am actually just not going to look for it in the piles on my desk. Me + Fire= the fire department).
I am going to start with three goals a day--no more, no less. If all I do is three things, so be it. If more gets done, I'll make my children throw me a parade. Bonus points if I manage to switch the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer.
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| my own personal swamp |
And the procrastination is so thick, that I have neither the resolution nor the energy to perform simple tasks like dialing the phone or charging one of my fifty i-products. In fact, I had to chug 16 ounces of coffee just to have enough strength to turn on the computer.
This has been going on for three days.
On Monday, I thought, well this is what the Monday blues feel like.
On Tuesday, I thought, well maybe, just maybe I am suffering from some sort of seasonal mood disorder. Yet, I lacked the self-concern to Google the symptoms or actually contact a medical professional.
And today, my husband asked me if I was applying to be on Hoarders.
While I secretly would love to be considered for a reality program showcasing insane people, I am just procrastinating; avoiding several elephants in my room that need peanuts or that little spot behind their ears scratched. It is the start of a new year--which means new projects, old projects and just projects. The list contains no less than 553 items. Nothing is crossed off. And everything takes more than five minutes to complete. Everything is as big as an elephant and just as stinky.
And I don't want to do anything.
That list is heavy. It weighs me down. It is like wearing a pair of cement shoes in a hot tub--you cannot get out, yet you are not really in danger of drowning; you are just getting all pruney and sweaty.
I hate prunes. I hate that list. I hate procrastinating. And I actually hate Hoarders.
So, enough with it all. No more pruney fingers. No more lists. I am burning my to do list. (figuratively, I am actually just not going to look for it in the piles on my desk. Me + Fire= the fire department).
I am going to start with three goals a day--no more, no less. If all I do is three things, so be it. If more gets done, I'll make my children throw me a parade. Bonus points if I manage to switch the laundry from the washing machine to the dryer.
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