I am not usually a big procrastinator. Except when it comes to cleaning the garage. (I don’t park in there, anyway.) Or hemming pants. (Because what else will my mother do when she visits?)
At the moment, however, I am PRO.CRAS.TIN.A.TING. I am in a pit of procrastination. An abyss of anti-motivation. An eddy of inertia.
This afternoon, for example, while my children were napping and/or reading, I could have easily worked on one of my two current projects. But no. I cleaned out my husband’s bathroom drawers.
That’s how bad it’s gotten.
God, you may need to send me a deadline.