Today I’m not that busy. Oh there’s stuff to be done. The flotsam and jetsam of a weekend with a houseful needs returning to its rightful home. There’s laundry and some mopping and a trip to the supermarket wouldn’t be a bad idea but none of it is urgent. And as there’s not much happening tomorrow or the next day I can look ahead and see a whole cathedral of windows of opportunity. Consequently I’m on a go slow.
I don’t function well without pressure. When there’s stuff to be done I adopt my ‘I’m a busy woman’ stance and I beetle about with a sense of purpose. Cakes needed for school fair? No problem. New contracts required for uber demanding client? You’ll have them by lunchtime. Christmas in less than six weeks? Sorted. Because the more I have to do the more I achieve. I suspect I’m not much fun to live with as I sigh and tut and shout my way through the day, moaning that no one ever does anything except me and genuinely expecting everyone to genuflect and nod in respectful awe as I sweep past.
Today I have things to put off. Tedious household tasks are eyeing me from the edges of my peripheral vision and laughing scornfully. I have some work that my boss emailed over but the instructions include the fatal words ‘There’s no rush’ so it has joined the long queue of things awaiting my attention but not really getting it. Instead, when I came back from school I wasted time on social media whilst convincing myself that it’s good for my soul to get out there and chat, did a bit of light organising and now I’m writing this.
But does it really matter? It all gets done eventually. They will all come home and they won’t notice if I’ve mopped the floor. There’s always something for tea even if it’s sometimes a bit touch and go and everyone had a clean and ironed shirt this morning. I will get to it all when I’m in the mood, which apparently is not now. In the meantime I will entertain myself by typing ‘Procrastination’ into google and seeing what comes up. Actually, I already did that……