Monday, January 31, 2005

I am wearing an old, soft, color block shirt in tones of teal, gray and olive; jeans, and no shoes. I cancel lunch with a friend when the headache this morning moves from irritating to nausea-inducing-painful, and curl up on the couch with a heating pad and a dog. The house is completely silent, save for the cats in the room upstairs occasionally using their new claw-scratching device, and the faint noises drifting in from a neighborhood where most people are gone at school and work for the day. After an hour and a half asleep, I take stock of the headache, get up and think about what I can and should do for the remainder of the afternoon. There is a birthday gift to buy before tonight's dinner. A status report due at work. Lodgings to book in New Orleans for our spring break trip. Tax papers to organize and a dog to be walked. Despite the fact that I have done nothing so far today, I think hard about what I can put off doing and whether I can spend unproductive time sorting through my CD collection to find my Afro-Celt volume 2 CD which I want to listen to and has gotten misfiled. I really can't justify this can I?

There are some things you wouldn't know if you never met me, and some I would hide if you did. Procrastination is one of them.

Here are some others. My freezer is jammed full and yet we rarely use anything once frozen. Everything in my pantry is stored in rubber containers not because I'm a veteran Tupperware-party girl, but because it was the only way to conquer an infestation of moths that got into everything packaged in paper or plastic. I have zero will-power for certain things: guacamole, men with crinkly laugh lines around their eyes, tulips and lost animals. I used a lot of colors in painting my house last year, and I still can't decide if the greyish-bluish-green hallway works. Actually, I simply can't decide if I hate it enough to repaint. Other people think it works but I don't. My favorite kind of tea is Stash brand peach flavored black tea, but I hate almost all other artificially peach flavored things. Peach is one of those sacred tastes you shouldn't mess with. My Dad regularly clamors for me to self publish my poems, which is flattering but not something I'd be likely to do for anyone other than my kids when they are grown. I am an excellent driver with no tickets or accidents to speak of, but someday I will likely kill myself because I spotted an interesting bird and tried to identify it while driving. I have a palm-sized stone in slate green on my bedstand that has a symbol that enourages achieving your dreams on it. When I was 12 I was voted most likely to own a pizza parlor.

And now you can see how effectively I procrastinate. It's an hour later and I will now think about buying that birthday gift and walking the dog. Much of the rest can and will probably wait.

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