Procrastination

It’s 9:48pm and I’ve decided that this would be a swell time to dispense of the assorted receipts, funny bits of lint, and business cards that are strewn across my nightstand. Nothing like busy work to keep you occupied and feeling otherwise productive when un-productive would be so much better a description. A few minutes ago, I was doing dishes that have been sitting here all day but were suddenly crying out for me to wash them. I folded laundry that ordinarily, although covering my bed, may have either made a very un-triumphant return to the white basket which transported it on its brief journey from the Whirlpool dryer, through the kitchen, past the living room and onto my bed, or just been knocked to the floor as I might choose to fold them tomorrow when I’m not as tired. I’d probably take a call from a telemarketer right now if one called, and volunteer for the ensuing survey if there were one.

No, I don’t have a term paper to finish, or a chemistry exam for which to cram. I’ve just convinced myself that this night would be different. I’ll create the perfect creative environment. I’Il just sit down and let it flow. Uninterrupted. It’s going to be great. I brainstormed all the way home, sitting in traffic, about what was on my mind and how I would capture it succinctly for a blog entry. I would site examples, give personal accounts, use clever analogies. You know how I do! I would amuse. I would inspire. I would provoke thought. I’d try to, anyway. I’d shoot for a literary masterpiece, my daily moon, if you will. If I fell short, it would still end up amongst the stars. Then I got home.

When I walked through the door, I was beat so I dropped my bag and sat down for a minute. As fate would have it, my 3 remote controls were sitting on the couch’s arm, just where I had left them. Even though I knew that I wanted to start writing while it was fresh in my mind, I flipped on NBA TV and watched the rundown of the evening’s action. I would only watch for a minute, I told myself…just to unwind. I decided that I was hungry, so I made myself something to eat. Nothing spectacular. Really, not spectacular at all, unless maybe you like eating like a hobo. Okay, it wasn’t that bad and no it wasn’t a hot dog on the end of a stick. I boiled some angel hair pasta, seasoned up some of the canned sock-eye salmon that I had leftover from yesterday and stirred it all together with a touch of olive oil. Sorely missing was either some parmesan cheese and/or some sort of cream sauce. I didn’t buy any heavy whipping cream the last time I was at the store, and I don’t do the add water to the powder type sauces, so I hoped that it could do without. It couldn’t. But after a few bites, it was just fine. I must’ve temporarily re-adopted my broke college student sensibilities and was just happy to be putting any food in my belly.

I reflected upon my proposed topic as the pasta concoction in the dish rapidly disappeared. How appropriate that I be “roughing it” and getting into a frame of mind to talk about struggle and loss and redemption. But not yet. My mom had called me while I was on my way home and then had to take another call. I know she’s going to call me back. I better not get started yet, lest my flow be interrupted by her call. I think there’s some more junk mail for me to sift through and subsequently shred. Oh wait, did I pay the cable bill? I better get online to check. I wonder if anyone else is talking about what’s on my mind. Let me Google it. There’s the phone. It’s a good thing I’ve got my Bluetooth; I’ll make these granite counter tops sparkle. What am I going to wear to work tomorrow? Plug in the iron. Let’s see…what’s clean? I’m going to be so efficient in the morning. I’ll workout, eat breakfast, get dressed, and hit the door like clockwork.

I need to nail this one. No, I’m not running from it. I’m not afraid. I just want to give it the proper attention and concentration. It’s going to be great. I’ll feel so accomplished when I finish. I already know who’s going to comment. That pomegranate I ate today sure was good, I should buy another the next time I’m at Whole Foods. Let’s see. Should I write to Coltrane or Massive Attack. No. Silence. No. Sportscenter? Videos. There’s the phone again. I’ll do this tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow. That way I can collect my thoughts even more. As for now, I’ll put on my dark shades, get back on the Harley and ride into the sunset. But, don’t worry. I’m the Procrastinator 3000. I’ll be back. Hasta la vista, Baby!