Thursday, 26 May 2011

Warning signs: this ridiculous level of procrastination has to stop.

I have, after avoiding it for many years, decided to mark exam scripts. My father, has been an examiner/moderator for as long as I can remember. Summer months plagued with non stop parcels arriving, mood swings, the silent treatment and ridiculous man hunts around the house for missing scripts/important papers. It was enough to make me reluctant to join the queue to earn extra cash. But somewhere, recently, I thought it was a good idea.  This "good idea" has resulted in a lot of nervous energy that I have been unashamedly fuelling in the wrong direction. By doing nothing at all productive.
This is what I should have been doing:
  • Preparing myself for arrival of scripts to examine by completing online tutorials
  • Preparing my house for arrival of scripts by removing excessive, and unnecessary junk, and providing a sanctuary of cleanliness to mark in. (We all know life is better when the house is tidy; less things get lost, people wake in brighter moods,  little blue birds chirp on windowsills etc etc)
  • Writing a bestselling novel so we could move out of this tiny, two bed roomed terrace, leave all our junk behind and a note on the door telling the examining board to bog off!
This is what I have been doing:
  • Updating my status on facebook too often. Definitely a warning sign of high levels of procrastination. I had, in recent months, weaned myself away from the dreaded FB, using it solely as a way of increasing traffic for this blog and to remember friend's birthdays. This was a conscious decision after finding myself irritated with its degeneration to bork book (e.g. can I just say my hubby/wifey is the most amazing/beautiful/sexy/funny person in the world and I'm gonna give a big sloppy snog when they get home) or boast book e.g. (OMG! I just got a promotion/pay-rise/boyfriend/blow-job - I'm amazing - Don't you want to be me? etc etc). However, somewhere amongst this week I got a little bit carried away with my own self importance and decided a running commentary of my life was needed. I think one day I updated my status four times, I think that puts me up there with the top offenders. Yes , this week I am a facebook nob.
  • Listening to next door neighbours argue. I was actually asleep... early. I think bad TV had driven me to it. It was about half past nine and I was woken by the neighbours shouting. These are the neighbours who we rarely ever hear, through our paper thin walls, but who are  plagued by our heavy feet, booming voices and inability to close a door. A door must be slammed! However, this midsummer evening I was bought back to waking through hearing these words, in a welsh accent, "I told you to do this months ago". The welsh neighbour is actually pregnant with their first baby. There was a lot of mumbling and I was unable to decipher what "this" was. Therefore, I was left to spend a stupid amount of time coming up with my own suggestions:
    • cancel their holiday to Magaluf?
    • propose?
    • forget about having a social life, freedom and a life in general?
    • start saving for all the very expensive Christmases to come?
    • vacuum pack and put in loft the following, till child is a teenager: expensive clothes, dry clean only clothes and any evening wear?
    • stop smoking/drinking/farting/breathing?
    • wear a condom?
  • Pretending to be asleep. This is a particular skill I have developed to avoid getting out of bed. I lie there, "sleeping", till The FH shoehorns me out. Yesterday morning The FH was in the shower, whilst Little O was sat on the toilet. I hear their conversation clearly, but my eyes are closed. I'm asleep. Little O jumps down and assumes the "bridge" position, and shouts, full volume, "WIPE MY BOT-TUM!" I'm asleep, so I can't do it. The FH  tells him to wait a minute, till he gets out the shower. During this minute, Little O remembers about the toy* his sticky fingers lifted from School yesterday. "Can I play with the boy?". I want to shout through from the bedroom - no chance there O, but I can't, I'm asleep you see. Instead I lie there and listen to the screams and wails ensue as he is told the boy is staying where he is. Little O is then sent to his bedroom for throwing a tear tantrum. Then, sniffle sniffle, pitter patter of little feet, "but you didn't wipe my bottom." Cream carpets? White bedding? I think I'll pretend to be asleep a bit longer.
  • Familiarising myself with every house I can't afford to buy on and fantasising about the interior design I would create if I owned them. By the way, in my head, I do an excellent job.

Side effects of too much procrastinating:
  • got back from the doctor's appointment to be told by Mother that I had my maxi skirt on inside out (could have paid more attention to detail)
  • found 3 NEW grey hairs (could have dyed it)
  • birthday plants have withered to a very crunchy existence (could have watered them)
  • shadows the shade of magenta under eyes (should have been sleeping)
Anyway, the scripts arrived today, no time for procrastination anymore. The next three weeks' schedule will be filled with mood swings, irrational ranting, self-indulgent pity and the losing of scripts/important papers. He taught me well.

[the toy* This is well worn figure of a young boy, who has golden brown hair, just like Little O, a red fleece just like Little O and blue plimsolls, just like Little O. I have previously caught him trying to take him home  and made him put him back. But yesterday I didn't realise he had hi, till we were home and I spotted his feet sticking out of his school short pocket. The FH was very unimpressed and put him out of reach on our highest shelf  and said no one was allowed to play with him till he was returned. There were a lot of tears.]

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