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Of the art of procrastination


I made a solemn decision yesterday, that today I would finally upload my manuscript to Amazon’s publishing programme. I would have the perfect day for it too, it was Sunday, my husband would be away the whole day, and it was raining. All I would have to do is sit by the computer and have it done. Right?

Wrong.

You see, I’ve made procrastination into something of an art form. Even the tasks I’m kind of looking forward to doing, I can postpone for days. So, today, I woke up late, spent hours reading morning papers and watching morning shows – hey, it was Dogtown and I had to see how it would turn out for those poor creatures, but admittedly, I could have skipped the reruns of Friends – until I was even remotely ready to consider opening my computer. And did I?

No. You see, it was also the perfect day for all the other stuff I’d been postponing. Like moving a drawer from one room to another, and we all know that never goes as fast as you hope. Then there were all those winter clothes I had to put away for the summer; after all, it’s June already. And then there were the laundry and the grocery shopping and… and before I finally opened the computer, it was evening already. And since then, I’ve changed the colour scheme of my web pages and written this blog, both very important tasks. If I push it a little more, I might well manage to postpone the uploading till tomorrow, and who knows what important tasks await me there.

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