They Don't Call It Procrastination for Nuthin'

Never let it be said that I was pushed into anything by any person, place or existential plane other than time.

Take now, for instance.

Some things about some stuff have been sitting, waiting to be done, ever so patiently by Yours Truly for the past two months.  I have known about them.  I have thought about them, as in, "Gee, I'd really better get those THINGS done."  I knew full well some stuffity stuff would hit the device that circulates air if I didn't get the THINGS done in a timely manner.  I knew this, and more.

And yet the THINGS sat.

And they stared at me in all their patient THINGLYNESS, saying to themselves, "Oh, she's in for a world of hurt, that one.  She knows we have to be done, and we can't be put off forever!  One day soon she'll be paying the piper, she will.  But does she even try to do part of us?  OH NO, SHE DOES NOT!"

And they tsked their THINGLY tongues at me and shook their THINGLY heads back and forth, back and forth.

Even as late as last Friday, they had hope, had these THINGS. 

"Perhaps she'll get up off of her (still) fat behind and actually move to GET US DONE TODAY!!!" they hoped with great hoping hopefulness. 

And they were cheered when a slight, palid wave of my hand in their direction gave them chance to hope some more.  A phone call here, an email there.  Slight, lukewarm, milquetoast progress at best.

But today - TODAY the THINGS most CERTAINLY HAD TO BE DONE.  The stuffity stuff, it was getting to the point of knee-highness, and could not be ignored or floated upon anymore.

And so it is that I find myself doing as I have done yea, so many times before.  Counting on others to supply my last-minute needs so that I do not drown in the stuffity stuff of the THINGS.  Which is why the desk, which was so very clean and presentable LAST week, now looks like a giant papery dinosaur regurgitated the last six months' worth of papery meals right upon its very top.

Insert heavy sigh here.

And also so it is that I sit here writing as I wait for some of the THINGS to appear via email from yet another of my breed, the Put-ter Offers of the World.  We are legion in number, and lethal in practice.

At least we WILL be...when we get around to it sometime tomorrow.  Or the next day.