A post from Selay J. Tay-Song on Dogpatch Writers Collective hit a little close to our new home. In fact, my new spice rack—constructed over the span of a weekend by my husband solely because our new kitchen had no space to put all my spices—looks suspiciously like procrastination.
Or the containered and labeled linen closet:
Like I can’t go forward with my writing until I have some form of order in my domestic life. Really?
Hmmm. The truth hurts. Selay, you’ve given me a shake. Now, if I can just get my son back on track, the one who left his Lego stop motion video of Columbus’s atrocities until the weekend before it was due:
And the Rube Goldberg book opening project until the night before it was due:
That didn’t get finished.
And the comic about Carbon (How do you make Carbon funny? Perhaps that’s the true point of procrastination in this case.) that is past due. Don’t have a photo of the comic because it’s supposedly in his locker. He had forgotten about it until I mentioned it this morning (while he was innocently eating his granola) that I’d received a note from his science teacher late last night, explaining that everyone else’s Carbon project had been turned in and graded.
All of this in one weekend.
We have been fruit basket upset by this move, but we’ve got to pull ourselves together. Get with the program. Start fresh. So I yelled at my son in the car on the way to school this morning. He MUST write down his assignments, plan his projects, and give me a detailed report every day!! Not a good morning for us, was it?
After taking a deep breath, I apologized and explained that while the content of my tirade was spot on, the delivery of said content was lacking. He and I will get on track, starting today.
But enough about us. Here is what a year’s worth of procrastination looks like. Thanks for the kick in the pants, Selay!