This is as good a time as any for a true confession.
If you know me, you know one of my worst pet peeves is procrastination-by other people. I just can’t seem to get my head around why, if you know you have to do something, you don’t just get up and f-ing DO IT when it crosses your mind? Especially if you are married to or related to someone like me, who waits in the wings for you to forget, because the pounce of triumph is truly a sweet thing for a person with so little intellectual stimulation as the woman who spends her days and nights with a 2 year old. Nothing makes me feel more justified, more…. martyred- than when I walk past 2 people sitting on the couch with trash cans in my hands to empty, or when I heave myself, sighing loudly, into the laundry room where, once again, clean laundry sits wrinkled and unfolded for me to fold. Or, the transgression of all transgressions, when I trod past my family relaxing on the couch, weighted down by 4 loads of folded laundry that has been sitting in the laundry room, crying to be put away, for several days.
Asking for help (again) is out of the question, see, because these chores WERE assigned and people did agree (and then promptly forget) to do them. Is it MY job to follow grown persons around, giving out gentle reminders at every turn? No way. As I said, much more satisfying to strap the cross to my back and trudge up the mountain.
Confession time: For at least 4 months, our computerized bank register hasn’t matched the online register where we download our transactions. There’s simply no real reason why I have chosen not to deal with this yet, since I spend several hours a day online. Each time I check, I remind myself that the more transactions are in the register, the harder this will be to figure out. I lay awake some nights, wondering how the thing could be off by over a thousand dollars. And yet. Here I sit, paying bills, doing banking tasks, and I look at the register. And I walk away. I can’t even claim forgetfulness-this is willful, mindful blowing off.
Much like the rotting flowers that sit in a vase on our counter right now, the bank register mocks me. And still I look away.
First of all, you are hilarious. I admire your witty, snickering, satirical comments and notions.
Secondly, it WILL get done.
At least YOU can blame the bank register on pregnancy…..I haven’t opened my statements in months.
Feel better?
You should never ever live with me. I am the queen procrastinator. And my bank records don’t match either, and I know I need to figure it out, but I never do.