Times a wastin'!

I would love to blame all my procrastination of late, the non-bill paying, crap committee contributing, PTO ducking, friend avoiding lot of it, on my kids. Managing a family is a slippery slope of an excuse that one can trot out timelessly without pushback as an explanation for all manner of dropping the ball in other area's of life.  But in my case, my kids are rarely at the root of any problems I have with productivity.  I am like an anti-Tony Robbins, a professional time waster of the grandest magnitude who could write a book on how to live your BEST life doing the LEAST each precious day.

I'm also faced a little bit with the retiree’s conundrum of not having enough to do and loads of time to do it, inevitably just putting everything off until a string of tomorrows that never come.  My retired aunt told me she orders her stamps by mail now because she kept putting off her trips to the post office each week and kept running out of stamps.  If you want something done, ask a busy person.  Um, that isn’t me lately so probably don’t ask.  And it’s not to say that I couldn’t occupy my time more usefully.  But an epiphany in my closet over the weekend has me mulling.

A walk-in closet is almost too much for a girl from Narberth, PA.  Chip’s bourgeois upbringing prepared him for such luxury, but my half of the closet has been much like Fibber McGee’s for seven years and in my weekend revelation I realized it has been so without dire consequences to my sassy style or humanity as a whole.

There I stood surveying much like a detective might at a crime scene:

--a blonde wig in a bag from when I was Christine Cagney at a Halloween party four or five years ago (hey, where is my service revolver?)

--a teacup and saucer in a bag that even an otherwise oblivious Chip had to ask, “Why is there a teacup in the closet?”   I don’t know the answer to that question.

---a Christmas dog collar
-- an American Girl doll

--tiny green clogs

 

I debated making a run at it and an idea or more a philosophy kind of washed over me...nothing bad has or will ever come of my messy closet.  And with my mind blown and set free, life has seemed simpler.   I have since managed to find the notes for my meetings, pull together promised materials to a committee, make contact with friends, pay the bills and sign up for a shift at the PTO rummage sale.  Well, I'm totally lying about the last thing.  But I intend to call tomorrow.  

Let's not even talk about my jewelry box