I had an idea to write a long, lyrical piece exploring memory and landscape, etc., but I am putting that off for now, or, perhaps, forever, to focus on procrastination. Procrastination could be my superpower, or one of them at least. Look how well I am not writing what I said I had intended to write.
Earlier today I was speaking with my sister in California. She is in southern California enjoying the kind of weather that area is famous for, while I am in New Jersey lamenting the loss of weekend train service. In our conversation I remarked how talented she is at planning in advance, that is, getting things done. I, woefully, am not. For example, I know the schedule for these Substack posts. We take turns each week, Esther, then Larry, then me, occasionally interspersed with work by others. If you’re interested in writing something let us know. The calendar is not complicated. Yet am I writing at the last minute? Of course, I am.
Here's a different example: the overhead fan in my guest room is not working. Have I known this for months? Is the temperature likely to top 80 degrees for two or three days any week now? Despite having months to do so, have I contacted an electrician or purchased a fan? Nope, nope, nope. The freezer in my twelve-year-old refrigerator is barely working. Yes, all these appliances used to last for much longer. Instead of replacing it, I wait, as if it will magically repair itself, and I won’t have to travel to the store or spend the money.
Today I had planned to clean the porch, uncover the furniture, get ready for the warm weather. Did I do more than think about it? Absolutely not.
And it’s not as if I get a great sense of relief once I get any of these small things done. It’s merely on to the next few little things I would just as soon put off doing. I blame the world and giving up watching “News” on television hasn’t helped, though watching less television does. And reading helps. I have read several wonderful poetry collections in the last few months. I am reading Michael Ondaatje’s most recent right now. His The Collected Works of Billy the Kid is one of my all-time favorites. It helped me figure out the kind of poet I want to me, whoever she is. Now this detour has distracted me from my subject which is procrastination, or why do we procrastinate or why do I procrastinate along with the things about which we procrastinate. So many answers to this one. I won’t try.
Maybe putting off for tomorrow is a good thing. It opens the door to the possibility that there will be a tomorrow, and a tomorrow in which accomplishments are possible. Meantime there is a basketful of clean laundry that cries out to be folded but may sit a while longer.
For more of my musings on other topics, or if you would like to procrastinate before doing whatever it is you’ve planned to do, this week I was interviewed for a podcast on older women’s “third chapters”. If you’d like to listen, here is the link:
Or go find Amy Winehouse’s song, “Procrastination.” And we are still reading “father” submissions.
My answer to procrastination has been to do my chores in small increments. Need to paint a room? I do it for twenty minutes, then wrap the brush in a plastic bag and refrigerate it. The next day, twenty more minutes. . . . Need to mow my lawn? Fifteen minutes today, fifteen minutes tomorrow, unless it rains.
And the older I get, the more "chores" feel like "activities." And I kind of like activities.
Nevertheless, I have Things to Do lists that hang on my refrigerator for months without ever getting checked off. I've always meant to write a short story that would consist entirely of Things to Do lists . . .
Oh, and BTW, I, too, have a ceiling fan on the fritz. Been like that for months. Wish we lived closer so we could share the electrician! (that is when one of us gets around to it!)