What's the Rush?

What's the Rush?

Squirrels

I am a procrastinator extraordinaire. If the deadline is 5:00pm, I will have it completed and turned in by 4:49pm. This is the system that works for me. It is not necessarily a good system, nor is it an encouraged system, but it is the one I use. I have tried to do assignments early, but it never seems to work out very well for me. For example, I get an assignment that is due in four weeks, at midnight. So in week two, I sit and start my assignment. I write a bunch of really bad stuff, delete most of it, start over, delete, edit, try a different approach...it goes nowhere. So I close the file and forget about it. That is what happens when I try to do my assignments early. Here is what actually happens. Fast forward – two days before the due date. I review the assignment (because I'm not completely clear on it anymore) and I think about it. That's right, I just think. I mull it around in my head here and there. I find drive time to be particularly productive for mulling. 

When I wake up on the due date, I have a brief moment of panic. “Geeze, I really should start that thing. If I do it this morning, I'll be off the hook for the rest of the day.” This is immediately followed by two cups of coffee and countless hands of solitaire. And thinking. And mulling. Then walk the dogs. Then a cigarette. A shower. Maybe I should do some dishes (another procrastination issue). If I actually manage to do some dishes (and maybe throw in a load of laundry), I'm sort of tired. The cure for that? Why a nap, of course!

I live for nap time, as do my dogs. I get my smelly old quilt, and stretch out on the couch. Henry has to reposition at the foot so I can get comfortable. He circles, finds a spot and settles his head on my feet. Then it's Sophie's turn. She climbs up on the sofa, very gingerly so as to avoid stepping on my stomach (which I greatly appreciate because a good 80 lb. shot to the stomach is enough to warrant a trip to the bathroom, which means we have to start the ritual all over) So up she comes. She nestles in between me and the back of the sofa, finally resting her head in the crook of my neck. Last, but not least (at least in my eyes – Henry and Sophie would disagree) Emmett approaches the couch. He stops and sits, looking hopefully at me that he will be included. I give him the go ahead, and he hops up and finds a small gap between Henry, Sophie, the back of the couch and my legs. He circles once, Henry glaring at him, and quickly finds a spot. Then we all shift and wiggle a little bit and settle in for the duration. As I close my eyes and drift off to the sounds of reality TV, I think to myself, “What am I going to write about?” It's only 3pm, I have plenty of time. How long could it take? Certainly not 9 hours. Ahh...deep breath.

Eventually my bladder protests loudly against my napping brain, and I am forced to get up. Wow – it's 6pm! Damn, I must have been really tired from doing those dishes! And I better put those clothes in the dryer, before they start to smell funny, and I have to rewash them. But first, the bathroom. “Hey, what about us?” my dogs say in unison. So, a quick walk for the pups; everyone pees and comes back into the house. Then to the laundry. I go to put my clothes into the dryer and, damn it, there are clothes in there. Okay, I guess I should fold those clothes, instead of just piling them on top of the dryer (that pile is already pretty high). So I fold, and as I fold I start to sort. “Hmm...haven't worn that in at least a year – probably don't need it anymore.” So off I go to get a bag for my rejects. I will take them to the church (some day) and donate them. 

Clothes finally folded and sorted, new load in the dryer, I move off into the kitchen. Yep, pretty hungry. What to have? Pizza sounds like a great idea, but it can be expensive. So a quick look through the coupon book. Nothing that great, and I really don't need to spend the money, so back to the fridge. Then the freezer. Then back to the fridge. I have tomatoes. Pasta is always good. So I boil water, dice tomatoes and get to cooking. I turn out a nice fresh tomato and garlic cream sauce served over spaghetti. I sit down to eat and am met with the “Hey, what about us” look from the dogs. Back to the kitchen, fill the food bowls, fill the water bowl, and go back to the couch to dine. The bird has heard me filling the dogs' dishes and starts in with his own little parrot version of “Hey, what about me?” So I fill his dish with seeds, and change his water. Finally, everyone is content for the moment. I really should get on that paper. The clock is ticking. I'll start as soon as I'm done eating.

It's now 9 pm. 3 hours and counting to my deadline. Start typing. Type, type, type. Shitty. Delete. Type some more. Not half bad. Type a little more, delete some, readjust. Okay, here we go! Off and running. All the disjointed thoughts of the past two weeks come forth, suddenly finding a relationship with the other heretofore disjointed thoughts floating in my brain. Before I know it, I've got a good 1000 words on the page and it's not even 10 pm! Great! Time to wrap it up. I finish, save and prepare to send it off into the ether. I cannot connect to the internet. Shit. This happens now and then because I rely on my neighbors who have unsecured modems. No luck tonight. Argh. Really not in the mood for this – it's cold outside and I don't want to be cold. I'm cozy and warm, sitting on the couch with Henry and Emmett, Sophie at my feet. Damn it. No other option if I am to meet my deadline. Okay. Shut down the computer, pack up my cord and grab my purse and keys.

I'm ready to head up to Tim Horton's, where the coffee is fresh and the internet is free. “Hey, what about us?” No, you dogs need to stay here. “But we really don't like it when you go out this late and leave us at home.” I know. I'll be back before you know it. “Well, okay, but can you at least let us out to pee before you go?” Yeah, sure, but make it quick. So we leash up, go out, pee, and come back in. Okay, now I'm off to Tim Horton's. It's 11 pm.

As I enter I spy a young woman, who is a friend of my daughter, behind the counter. She's one of my favorites as far as my daughter's friends go. So we chat a little. She tells me about school and dorm life at UMO. She asks about Claris (my daughter), so I fill her in on her current escapades. I order a decaf (because I feel guilty for really only wanting to use them for their free internet) and a doughnut. Chocolate with coconut – perfect. I get my coffee and doughnut and find a table with an outlet. I plug in and boot up. I agree to Tom Horton's terms of agreement (which I have never, and will never, read) and sign in to my email. I write a quick note to my instructor and attach my file. Off it goes. Finally, I am done! It is 11:45. I finish my coffee and head home.

I greet the dogs, smoke one last cigarette, and head upstairs to get ready for bed. The cats greet me at the top of the stairs singing a demanding chorus of “Where's our dinner”, so I fill their bowls, give them a pet and head to the bedroom. I settle in, surrounded by the dogs (and a cat or two) and, as I close my eyes I think to myself “I wonder what's due tomorrow?”