I tend to procrastinate things that I want to do well for no other reason than my ability to work under pressure, and yet pressure doesn’t have its same effect now that I go home to a life with someone, my own little version of family. I’m sure you already know what I am going to say; that living outside of yourself, as a part of a unit bigger than your own wants or needs, comes with its own to-do list. Make the dinner. Clean the dishes. Oh, and notice that giant pile of half packed boxes over there? Yea, the ones that have been sitting in virtually the same spot for two weeks now? Yup. Those ones. Those are the ones that I promise I’ll finish up, that I’ll clear out of my way and make these final days of living in our Salt City home seem normal and inviting. But… Internet. And… Television.
I’ve resorted to crashing lazily on the couch after consistent days of 10-12 hours of work to watch silly things like Naked Dating. I hate reality shows! I think that feeling remains fairly mutual for both Stark and I. Still, in that one exhaustive moment where I mentally choose more work over the mindless zombie watching of most any television show, I choose mindless zombie.
Wake up. Get ready. Make breakfast. Run to the train. Get to work. Dive into an anxiety-inducing to-do list. Go to meetings. Skip lunch. Work harder. Try it faster. Cringe over forgotten coffee. Try to work to one of those things people call “a good place to stop,” but quickly realize that isn’t going to happen. Stop mid-project. Run to the train. Work on the train. Pack up quickly. Run off the train. Go home. Start dinner. Finish working. Harvest the garden. Go to the grocery store. Run to an appointment. Meet someone for a “See You Later” dinner. Arrive back at home for that inevitable moment: Zombie vs. Boxes. Flip to Naked Dating. Die a little inside. Redeem myself with Daily Show or slip into a total mental void by watching HGTV reruns. House Hunters International. Oh. My. Gosh. That’s. Me. Promise myself I’ll do it tomorrow. Fall asleep. Repeat.