Morning Procrastination

                                           

So that sums me up really, in the title. Procrastinating away like I’m being paid for it. I know you do it too Reader, don’t pretend you don’t. Methodical you say? I don’t believe you. Jotting a few pointers on a post it note and forgetting where you stuck it isn’t really a method as such. I have a list as long as my arm of things to do, designs to draw up, paperwork and so forth. At any given time there is at least five things written on the back of my left hand.

When I was at secondary school, my mum used to say all that writing made me look like a ruffian. I don’t think she imagined at that point that I would become a tattoo artist, now I have many permanent ruffian doodles all over my body *cue rebellious smile* But I’m getting slightly off point here.

So I look at my list of things to do either on the back of my hand which then gets transferred to my white board for ‘permanency’. Number one on list: watermark photos for website. ‘Right’ I think ‘I can get that all done in 30 minutes’ but first I must just log into Facebook…and so it begins. I spend 30 minutes fijing around on Facebook (for the definition of Fije, please see footnote on ‘The Pod and I’) drift onto Youtube for a song that’s just popped into my head (happens to be Together in Electric Dreams by Philip Oakey and Giorgio Moroder…gotta love the 80s. You love the 80s too, don’t you, Reader?) Log out of Facebook to prevent further procrastination and Oh! Tea, must have morning caffeine! I boil the kettle and pour into my cup prepared with Punjana teabag (it really is the best!) I watch the swirls brew throughout my cup, open the fridge…there’s no milk. Shit. What Imbecile put the bottle back in the fridge with a nat’s piss of milk left in the bottom!? (Voice in head pipes up ‘it was you, you scatty cow) Hmmm. I apologise to ‘self’ for calling’ self’ an imbecile. If I was a milk in first kind of girl this would never have happened! So I make a speedy action plan which goes as follows: put on the first available clothing. Its grey jogging pants with a bleach stain on where I tried Vanish to remove ink. I didn’t think it was so literal. Now attired in joggers, T-shirt I slept in (no-one will know) hair scraped into a hairband, no make-up (this last one is only reserved for morning shopping at Tesco or when I really really really don’t give a fuck.) Before I leave I just log back into Facebook quickly to see if anything important happened while I was attempting to make tea. It didn’t. Log out again and head to the car to drive to the evil corporation that goes by the name of Tesco. (Unfortunately it’s the nearest place that does organic milk.) I return home half an hour later with 2 full bags of shopping hanging from my wrists and a Costa Coffee being propped up by my strained fingers. (I only wanted a pint of milk, what happened?) I am now sitting on the floor in a pile of shopping overflowing from bags, drinking a non-organic coffee while I log back into Facebook to read a newsfeed that can only be described as a steady stream of absolute shite. But this shite I must read, why? I have no idea but I do it every day so I must need to read it. A further 15 minutes of fijing before I check Twitter, my 2 email accounts and my other Facebook which is for business purposes. Right, clearly nothing going on in the world, Fuck it…I might as well go back to sleep.