It’s always amazing to me how effective procrastination is as a tool to get everything else in your life done. Always.
What I really needed to do today was figure out what hilarious anecdote to share for the up and coming Terror and Storytelling Event. You see, the lovely folks who organize said event would like a short bio, and an idea of what I’ll be talking about, so they can place me correctly amidst the other terrified speakers. They didn’t give me a deadline. But then I asked them for one.
What was I thinking?
Wednesday. The clowns suggested that Wednesday would be a good day to have all my vitals–and some idea of what I’ll be stumbling through–submitted to them. Wednesday is like tomorrow tomorrow, and since actual tomorrow is completely filled from rising to collapsing, with things like Trader Joe’s runs and airport deliveries and Science Museum Throwback Edition, not to mention the very official presidenting of the December Library Board meeting, my entire life might as well be ending tonight. Because tomorrow tomorrow is really, when you do the math, just tomorrow. It’s 9pm in the Nexus, I definitely have to sleep a ton before all that tomorrow business, and I still have nothing to send the clowns.
But you see, I did get many things done today while avoiding the thing I was really supposed to be doing. I took a nice morning walk. I forgot to eat breakfast. I baked the last of the official Christmas cookie onslaught. I made the lunch. I switched the laundry. I mailed the gifts to the kid who thinks Arkansas is an acceptable place to live. I dropped one dud phone at the UPS store and one dud phone at the Fedex place, and I talked endlessly to the dud phone company and determined that even the replacements that they sent me are useless and going to have to be sent back, like tomorrow, if there were any time. I set to worrying–as much as possible all crammed into the very small allotment of time I had, so as not to procrastinate–because I am the mom, and it is my job. I called Amazon to ask them why I could no longer see the order total at the top of each and every of my four thousand orders from the past month. (Answer? “I’m sorry ma’am. I’m certain that this error will clear up tomorrow.”) I made the dinner. I made the lunch for all the tomorrowing. I made the dinner for the family to eat tomorrow whilst I’m presidenting. I updated the Christmas letter list to include a few more people who I had to look at sheepishly this year as I didn’t hand them a letter. I called AT&T to ask them why their website kept telling me it couldn’t process my payment this weekend, and also, why exactly they charged my credit card five separate times during all those failed processings. I researched far more than was necessary at this point, regarding which cell phone (x2) I would be buying next, after all the impending returns. I updated the weekly menu to reflect all the confusing tomorrows. I took the kiddo to DrJ. I emailed the friend. And the other one. I set up the educational play date for the youngest to make magic happen with her NHD project and partner. I rearranged the freezer. I cursed the phones. Once more for good measure. And I thought long and hard about calling Lenovo to inform them that all the parts they replaced last Friday didn’t actually fix the problems, but I thought better of it, because I didn’t want to procrastinate. Also, I wrote this blog post.
And I still don’t have anything to send the clowns. Last night I watched a video of the Truth Be Told Holiday Edition from last year, just to see what I’m getting myself into. It made me feel better and worse all at once.
I should just do it right now. I mean, at least the bio.
Krista Ottinger moved across the state to Colfax almost 13 years ago to marry Scott. Together, they have more children than anyone cares to count. Krista is homeschooling mom, a writer, and a professional procrastinator. We have no idea what story she might be telling tonight, and by the glazed look in her eyes, neither does she.
There. Look at all that progress. It is now 9:30. Elf is almost over, and my gauges are flagging. I gonna hafta make some snap decisions Wednesday morning. This is torture.
To tomorrow, and tomorrow tomorrow,