It's Bad to Procrastinate. Seriously.
I procrastinate about the things which I consider to be drudgery. "Drudgery" is a relative term. I find most household related tasks to be very satisfying. The accomplishment is verifiable, the rewards immediate. Many of the daily tasks, the ones that have to be done over and over and never end don't bug me.
And then there's the other stuff. The stuff about which I procrastinate because it just doesn't satisfy me in the same way. I wish I could be one of those people who does all the stuff they don't like first thing to get it out of the way. Rather, I fancy that if I just ignore it long enough someone else will do it. Oddly, they never do.
I do wish I could figure out how to do things when I have the time to do them instead of thinking that there will be more time later. I really should know better by now. And I'm not talking about big dramatic things like being hospitalized or hit by a truck. It's just that when I think that the whole day is spreading in front of me the reality is, maybe not so much.
After too much noodling around yesterday I told myself to set the timer and get to my drudgeries. Which I did, because sometimes I listen to myself. Then the phone rang: The Child calling from school, in pain.
So yesterday ended up being all buggered up. But today was begun with renewed spirit and determination to banish the drudgeries so that they aren't niggling at me while I'm trying to do the things that bring pleasure and satisfaction. So far so good. I'd like to dismiss these things as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and maybe on some level they are. But the boring little details of day-to-day life are like putting oil in the car. It's smelly, messy and not very glamorous but it makes everything that matters run more smoothly. And I just this second realized that this is also part of the reason that I "dress up" every day. Because those tasks I deem drudgery don't feel so drudgy when I'm wearing cute little pumps and a flirty skirt.
And The Child, thank you for asking, is fine. For the last couple of weeks, she's been complaining off and on of stomach pains. She's been, pun intended, gutting up just fine in spite of it but yesterday it was troublesome enough that she wanted to come home. I was, of course, reluctant. My mind always runs on two simultaneous and opposing tracks in these situations.
Track 1: She's faking, she's trying to get out of something, I should tell her to get back to work and stop being such a slacker or she'll never amount to anything.
Track 2: Oh. My. God. Something is so wrong. Something is seriously, seriously wrong. God, please don't let it be a tumor.
'Cause I'm balanced like that.
I picked her up and initiated the Dr. Mom inquisition. She describes the pain, the conditions under which she experiences it, etc. etc. I rule out all the obvious things via a series of unbloggable questions. Then I ask about emotional stuff, a test she wasn't prepared for, someone trying to take her lunch money, that sort of thing. She assures me that school is great, nothing's going on, it isn't anything like that. I have her do the "jumping test" to see if it's her appendix. Kids with appendicitis will either refuse to jump or jump once and stop because the pain is so bad. I had to tell The Child to stop jumping.
I get her into bed with a water bottle and before calling the pediatrician's office, google "abdominal pain". Now, we all know that if you google an ailment you will be taken to a site that describes your exact symptoms and diagnosis you as terminal and incurable. But I got lucky and the first hit was a renowned pediatrician's site, wherein he described 7 common abdominal complaints, 5 of which are not serious and 2 of which are. And it seemed really clear that what The Child was suffering from was strained abs.
She had an appointment in the afternoon and the doctor pretty much confirmed my theory. She did all the requisite poking and prodding and found nothing abnormal. The Child's descriptions were consistent with strained muscles. The only thing the doc was concerned about was that she was in enough pain to want to come home from school so if she isn't better by next Monday I have to take her in again. But I don't think that will be the case.
She got a doctor's note excusing her from PE (oh, what I wouldn't have given for something like that in my youth) and is laying off volleyball this week. And how did she do this, you ask? No way of knowing. Could have been a volleyball dive, could have been a prolonged bout of sneezing, could have been lugging 412 pounds of school supplies up 2 flights of stairs on the first day of school. She just has to take it easy so the muscles can heal.
Of couse, she decided to milk all this today and requested to stay home. And you know what? I let her. Less running around on her behalf means that much more time to accomplish my lofty drudgery goals. Cue the cashmere and pearls and action!
Both Lauren Graham and Sting were on "Studio 60" last night. Nowhere near enough of either of them but still. It was fun.
And then there's the other stuff. The stuff about which I procrastinate because it just doesn't satisfy me in the same way. I wish I could be one of those people who does all the stuff they don't like first thing to get it out of the way. Rather, I fancy that if I just ignore it long enough someone else will do it. Oddly, they never do.
I do wish I could figure out how to do things when I have the time to do them instead of thinking that there will be more time later. I really should know better by now. And I'm not talking about big dramatic things like being hospitalized or hit by a truck. It's just that when I think that the whole day is spreading in front of me the reality is, maybe not so much.
After too much noodling around yesterday I told myself to set the timer and get to my drudgeries. Which I did, because sometimes I listen to myself. Then the phone rang: The Child calling from school, in pain.
So yesterday ended up being all buggered up. But today was begun with renewed spirit and determination to banish the drudgeries so that they aren't niggling at me while I'm trying to do the things that bring pleasure and satisfaction. So far so good. I'd like to dismiss these things as unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and maybe on some level they are. But the boring little details of day-to-day life are like putting oil in the car. It's smelly, messy and not very glamorous but it makes everything that matters run more smoothly. And I just this second realized that this is also part of the reason that I "dress up" every day. Because those tasks I deem drudgery don't feel so drudgy when I'm wearing cute little pumps and a flirty skirt.
And The Child, thank you for asking, is fine. For the last couple of weeks, she's been complaining off and on of stomach pains. She's been, pun intended, gutting up just fine in spite of it but yesterday it was troublesome enough that she wanted to come home. I was, of course, reluctant. My mind always runs on two simultaneous and opposing tracks in these situations.
Track 1: She's faking, she's trying to get out of something, I should tell her to get back to work and stop being such a slacker or she'll never amount to anything.
Track 2: Oh. My. God. Something is so wrong. Something is seriously, seriously wrong. God, please don't let it be a tumor.
'Cause I'm balanced like that.
I picked her up and initiated the Dr. Mom inquisition. She describes the pain, the conditions under which she experiences it, etc. etc. I rule out all the obvious things via a series of unbloggable questions. Then I ask about emotional stuff, a test she wasn't prepared for, someone trying to take her lunch money, that sort of thing. She assures me that school is great, nothing's going on, it isn't anything like that. I have her do the "jumping test" to see if it's her appendix. Kids with appendicitis will either refuse to jump or jump once and stop because the pain is so bad. I had to tell The Child to stop jumping.
I get her into bed with a water bottle and before calling the pediatrician's office, google "abdominal pain". Now, we all know that if you google an ailment you will be taken to a site that describes your exact symptoms and diagnosis you as terminal and incurable. But I got lucky and the first hit was a renowned pediatrician's site, wherein he described 7 common abdominal complaints, 5 of which are not serious and 2 of which are. And it seemed really clear that what The Child was suffering from was strained abs.
She had an appointment in the afternoon and the doctor pretty much confirmed my theory. She did all the requisite poking and prodding and found nothing abnormal. The Child's descriptions were consistent with strained muscles. The only thing the doc was concerned about was that she was in enough pain to want to come home from school so if she isn't better by next Monday I have to take her in again. But I don't think that will be the case.
She got a doctor's note excusing her from PE (oh, what I wouldn't have given for something like that in my youth) and is laying off volleyball this week. And how did she do this, you ask? No way of knowing. Could have been a volleyball dive, could have been a prolonged bout of sneezing, could have been lugging 412 pounds of school supplies up 2 flights of stairs on the first day of school. She just has to take it easy so the muscles can heal.
Of couse, she decided to milk all this today and requested to stay home. And you know what? I let her. Less running around on her behalf means that much more time to accomplish my lofty drudgery goals. Cue the cashmere and pearls and action!
Both Lauren Graham and Sting were on "Studio 60" last night. Nowhere near enough of either of them but still. It was fun.
Labels: 412, volleyball
cobbled together by Moi at 9:47 AM
9 Comments:
I'm giving you the adjective of the day award for use of the word "flirty" to describe apparel.
Hope she's feeling better soon.
I love it when I get awards from you. I'll tell her Uncle JP cares.
Speaking of procrastination: I love your URL!
Allan, Dishes. The one thing I hardly ever procrastinate about.
Glad to hear it is nothing serious, hope she is feeling better soon!
I fell asleep on Studio 60, I like the show but evidently the Nielsen's don't!
How cool was Sting and the Lute!!..Lord he'p me,I love that stuff.
So glad the Child's ailment isn't serious,or one of those adolescent related things that tend to be unbloggable.
I also like the word "flrty".It's light and airy.
"flrty" ??....I meant "buggered"...
Kendall, I hope you didn't drool on Studio 60's shoulder. I like it, too, but something tells me it won't last as long as "West Wing".
Sling, The Neighbor had just told me about this new album of his. I am so going to have to get it. Tres cool. And "buggered" is a light, airy word, isn't it. As Charlie would say, "Bump".
Oh how I wish I felt about housework the way you do! Oh how my HUSBAND wishes that! :) You know that Peg Bracken book "The I Hate to Housekeep Book"? Well, I could have written it. And that is what I procrastinate about a lot. Except dinner and dishes, which are always done without procrastination. But laundry... still sitting in the basket waiting to be folded and put away - since Sunday. Will likely be there Saturday too, only the basket will be a bit emptier because we will have had to dip into it for things to wear. Now how pathetic is that?
Glad The Child is okay. My granddaughter went through much the same thing not too long ago. Daughter was worried it was something serious after the skepticism wore off, but pediatrician said much the same thing yours did. Problems went away after about a week.
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