Why put off until tomorrow what you can put off until there’s a nuclear apocalypse and it won’t really matter anymore?
If the rent is due on the first, and I have a 5-day grace period, guess when I’m going to pay it?
….At 11:59pm on the fifth day.
This is problematic when you are the Chief of “Cassie Cares,” because no one’s going to write your blog except you. Henceforth, no one will be reading it, either. And then your stats will plummet, and meanwhile, you’re saying things like “I have to write something, but let me completely color-code my bills, closet, and friends first.”
Occasionally my friend Mike needs a pep talk. “Procrastination,” I say to Mike, “Is merely your way of telling yourself ‘I can’t do this.’ Mike, you can do this.” And then he thanks me and I carry on conditioning my cuticles and wondering if I can will the whiskey bottle into my lap.
“I’m really hungry, but I haven’t cleaned my jewelry in a while. That definitely takes precedence over basic need.” Then I put off eating until the very last second before my head explodes, and suddenly I’m running into the grocer without pants and I begin weeping when I can’t get the Fritos open. This is perhaps why they no longer let me purchase alcohol at this fine establishment.
That, and my license has been expired since April. I’ve been meaning to get a new ID.
I’ve known that I’m a chronic procrastinator for a long time, but I’ve managed to get by without batteries in that smoke detector for a while, why should I start taking precautions now?
“Someday Syndrome” is what I call it. Someday I’m going to sell my car, fix my bike, take the recycling, and, if I play my cards right, take a shower.
My dad has this infliction, too, except his is more “One of these days.”
“One of these days we’re going to get hardwood floors,” my dad says, and then he promptly decides to change the oil in all of the vehicles on the street. Most of the vehicles belong to my family, because my parents had it in their minds that they wanted to recreate the Brady Bunch (except with a twinge of humiliation and residual scarring), but they forgot that this requires having several children living in one place. Eventually, children become adults, and adults typically own things, and for some reason we’re all parked at my parents’ for the purpose of this narrative. My dad hasn’t changed the flooring, but boy do his cars run forever.
I have this one sibling whom I don’t think should be allowed to operate machinery, or live in a developed nation, but that’s not really what this blog is about.
Did I learn this behavior from my dad’s “One of these days” ? Is there some reason why my neurotic behavior takes precedence over things I genuinely need to do?
Why do we choose to “re-rack” our priorities? Why do I decide that cleaning the basement is ultimately more important than:
- Personal Hygiene
- Social obligations
Am I telling myself that I can’t pay bills? Shower? Leave the house? I know I’m capable of these things…
But man, it’s been a while since I washed those rugs…
D: “I thought you said there’d be Oreos.”
C: “No, I said I was going to cry, and then eat Oreos until I died.”
N: “That is about the rudest thing I’ve ever heard.”