I was just about to go to bed. The big dog, Darla, is already asleep on her own thick bed. Blackie Chan is resting on my pillow, watching me, and waiting. Rosa Parks is sleeping on the cushion behind me. I’m in my pajamas. I have taken a big dose of cough medicine, set up the coffee pot for morning, washed my face and brushed my teeth. Ready to call it an early night.
I’m sick, after all. I haven’t decided, quite, if I’m really, really sick with a terrible, awful virus…or if I’m just a big baby about having the common cold. One or the other, definitely. And either way, it’s been a long week of not feeling well. I wanted, of course, to still spend time with my family while they were here, and needed to keep up with my job. Medicine to keep the symptoms to a minimum allowed me to keep going. But barely.
Now, with company gone and my work week finished, I have plenty to catch up on. But tonight, I’m tired. I decided that all unfinished jobs (wiping down the kitchen counter, putting away dishes, cleaning the sink, folding the blue jeans and sweeping the floor) could wait until morning. Even though my original goal was to finish up the housework tonight, so that I could devote tomorrow to yard work.
If I have one superpower, it is surely procrastination. Even when I’m feeling my best, I can manage to come up with reasons and excuses to put off whatever jobs I’m faced with. When a nasty cold makes me feel groggy, well, there. Easy to set everything aside.
And yet, tonight, scrubbed and pajama-ed and ready for bed, I remembered this blog…and my plan to write each Sunday. And though I have little success to report, other than making it through the week, I delayed my bedtime to do it. I call that progress!