Ever heard the saying, procrastination is like masturbation because you are only screwing yourself? Well, I'm screwing myself right now. I thought I had this all under control. Laundry and packing for me and the kids, who will be staying with relatives while I'm in Chicago. Three bags, no biggie, right?
Wrong-o! Post-Easter the house is in shambles, despite all the spring cleaning I did last week. Candy everywhere, all of which needs to be handled before the ants come marching in. Medications for allergies, asthma, lactose intolerance and the dog's cranberry supplement so she doesn't catch another bladder infection all need to be located. This place is a pit, nothing is where it should be and I'm about ready to tear my hair out.
So instead of doing all the stuff that needs to be done I'm online. Screwing around. And I really don't want to get off. (Pun totally intended.) Two days from now, it'll all be done, the bubs will have what they have and I'll be on a plane. If something is forgotten, no biggie. My best friend always says bring keys, money/credit cards, i.d./ cellphone and charger and medication because anything else can be replaced. It sounds simple, so why am I putting it off?
Because I don't want to pack the bag fifteen times, like do every single trip, looking for an extra inch of space so I can add another belt/dress/pair of shoes. I know that the kids will forget something that will result in twenty seven phone calls and possibly tears. I remember the days when the only thing I needed to fret about was my manicure. Snort, that shallow beeyotch is still in there, rolling her eyes and going, why me?
Honestly, I'm going to be spent before I even get there. Just thinking about it all makes me tired. It's actually kinda like writing a book. The more you think about it, the less you accomplish. The only way to get to the end is to do it. So I'm off like a prom dress, ready to tackle the mess.
Just one more email....
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