The Fine Art of Procrastination

I finally finished painting my bedroom. It is a lovely bluey-green color (much prettier than in the photo. It is snowing today and very dark so it is hard to take a decent photo.) and it looks fresh and clean. I am very happy with it. It only took me eleven-and-a-half years to get around to it. In my defense, the room was freshly painted white when we moved in and there were plenty of other rooms that desperately needed a paint job. But still, eleven-and-a-half years? And for several of those years, there have been various paint patches on the walls from trial colors.

Did I mention we are contemplating a necessary long-distance move in the next few months?

So, yes, I finally painted my bedroom only to most likely put the house on the market and have the new owners move in and paint it all over again. I should have painted it eleven-and-a-half years ago and then I could have enjoyed the pretty color for more than a month or two but that is not the way I operate.

I don’t procrastinate about everything or at least I didn’t think I did until I started writing this post and I was forced to think about it. But, yes, I want this post to go out tomorrow and I am writing it at 3:19 p.m. knowing I have a meeting tonight and won’t have a chance later so it is now or never. I pretty much never have posts ready ahead of time. I get things done but I squeak in under the wire. Sometimes, if it isn’t vital, it takes me eleven-and-a-half years to do it.

My kids tend to procrastinate too and it drives me a bit mad. School reports done at the last second, chores done right before I get home, walking out the door for work at the last possible second. I lecture them about it all and they, understandably, roll their eyes at me. I’ve set a fine example for them. Of course, they could have taken after their father who has probably never been late for anything in his life and is a firm believer in “do it early and do it right.” But no, the one skill they inherited from me was the fine art of procrastination.

Would anyone like to lay any bets about how long it will take me to paint our bedroom in the new house once we move? I’m thinking I can make it to an even dozen years this time.