How Do You Procrastinate?

We crave instant gratification. We're lazy. We have a fear of failure. There's no deadline. The high priority action that you have to complete pushes you out of your comfort zone.

Enter procrastination. We all do it. And some of us are better at it than most. Like moi!

I have my tried and true go to's, like emptying the dishwasher at a snails pace, or putting in a load of laundry, even though it's a shirt and bra. I'll find a Pilates studio for a friend out of state, because clearly they don't have time to Google, like I do. I've done the itunes, Youtube, Facebook and Twitter shuffle. Child's play.

There's the cliched sock, and or undergarment drawer, that needed organizing, because if I didn't get to it that very minute, all hell would break loose, and I wouldn't be able to focus on my high priority action.

I've had to call friends that I really didn't want to speak to because I was procrastinating. I've sifted through scraps of paper laying around my office for hours (rereading each and every one of them of course) and filed the TO BE FILED file, that had been in need of some TLC for months.

I've tweeted Cher, and bought a menagerie of 'things' online, only to change my mind when it came time to checking out because I was too lazy to fetch my credit card. 

But the other day, I took two empty 2lb Pro Energy Whey Protein Powder (Vanilla) canisters filled with change (pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters) out of the hall closet. I found several coin wrappers and I stood in front of the dining room table, hunched over (bad Pilates instructor, very bad) and began to WRAP!

Fact. Coinstar, found in some grocery stores, may charge up to 8% to count your change that you dump into their bin. No way. That's my money. Well, mine and my boyfriend's. Besides, I'm procrastinating. I've got time. It's a win-win situation. Right?

However, around the fifty dollar mark, my neck started aching from bending over the mounds of metal. I also realized, with the help of my boyfriend's judging glances, that perhaps I had procrastinated enough for one day.

There's often a defining moment in the procrastinators dance, when he or she gets a wee disgusted with themselves. So much so that getting back to work seems like the only option. I had the moment and I had fifty dollars. Okay, twenty-five dollars, although I think I should get more since I'm the one who took time away from my high priority work to wrap these dirty coins. Right?

Not Everyone is a Billionaire!

I happened to be home today and had the opportunity to watch Oprah. She interviewed the Harry Potter author herself,  J.K. Rowling. It wasn't like I was chomping at the bit to catch this particular episode, but hey, I was home, (doing what, I don't remember) I've seen one or two of the movies but I haven't read any of the books. But I wanted to hear what she had to say. She's a writer. I'm a writer. I'm sure we have something in common.

At one point during the interview, Oprah brings up J.K.'s (whose name is Joe) extreme wealth. I believe she used the fact that J.K is the first billionaire writer, as her jumping off point. Oprah wanted to know how money had changed J.K's life. Frankly, it came off as an excuse so Oprah could comment on her own wealth. J.K. said, "I wear better clothes." She went on to say that there's a certain amount of freedom that comes with wealth. "If I see two things that I want, well, I realize that I don't have to choose. I can have both." Oprah giggled like a giddy school girl.

I started to throw up a bit in my mouth! Have these two billionaires read the papers lately? I could not believe what I was hearing. They were talking to each other as if they were having sleep over in one of their mansions and were regaling each other with the trials and tribulations of being filthy dirty rich, without a thought to the millions of viewers watching, who DO NOT live in mansions.

As J.K. was having her 'aha' moment about not having to choose, Oprah was on the edge of her seat, anxious to weigh in with a, "I know! I can have both!" It was positively repugnant.

J.K. went on, "Money doesn't solve anything. I still worry that it might go away. Although I'd have to be pretty foolish, and I've never been foolish with money before, so, I guess I'm okay." She looks to Oprah in a, you know what I'm talking about sister girl. But Oprah didn't know what she was talking about because she then adds, "No, I really don't feel that way anymore." Thus implying that she's pretty damn sure that she'd always be rich.

Really? In this environment you're talking about how hard, weird, uncomfortable and comfortable it is being a billionaire? Oprah wouldn't stop. She wouldn't let go of the money topic. Every time they returned from a commercial, Oprah somehow worked money back into the conversation. I wanted to climb through my TV and bang their heads together!

I've never had a problem with Oprah, except when The Secret came out and she started shouting S E C R E T (holding on the word for like a whole minute before she got to the T) Who the hell do they think is watching Oprah? It was the most insensitive 10 minutes of television that I had witnessed in a long time. And I watch a lot of television.

Clearly I was more irritated by this than I thought because I took it into my Mat Pilates class. We had just finished doing push ups and the class was in child's pose. I told them about the Oprah interview in a wild rant, complete with facial expressions, physicality and an array of vocal inflections. In essence, a stand-up comedy routine. This happens on occasion. I forget where I am. Is it a Pilates studio or a stage? See post A Tall Drink of Water or Pass the Beano, for further evidence.

I'm nearing the end of my story when I say something to the effect of "Come on, who do you think you're talking to? Fuck you." Of course this was directed at Oprah and J.K., and if that wasn't inappropriate enough, I brought the point home by giving Oprah the finger. Actually two fingers. As soon as my digits left my hands, I regretted it. But I was committed and it was too late. I ended it there but my class will, I fear, now have an image of me, red faced, irate, and shooting Oprah the bird.