I have so much to do this coming week that’s it almost become farcical. I’m not even stressed or worried about it, because it’s an amount of stuff so large that it’s now become soft around the edges. If the stuff I had to do was a pile, it’s be so big that it would fill my peripheral vision. When something is so big that it’s all you can see – when it’s the only thing in your sight line - it no longer feels big because it’s all you know.
So of course almost none of it is going to get done.
If you have stuff like that this week ahead and you too are looking for quality procrastination materials, look no further. For while I should be calling the Student Loan office and arranging my tuition for January, maybe you’re supposed to be having a dental filling replaced or ordering a new cheque book.
That reminds me. I need a filling replaced, and I have no cheques. Great. My list just got longer, thankssomuch.
Some things to procrastinate with/for/on:
My friend posted this on Facebook, and I loved it. I’ve participated in many of these “Canadian” activities, except I didn’t see the snippet of teenagers in lumberjack jackets drinking beer in a farmer’s field, or teenagers in lumberjack jackets drinking beer under a railroad trestle, or teenagers in lumberjack jackets drinking beer at a Provincial Park campground.
Canada Shared by Canadians
I want to share what Chantal wrote on her blog, and I related very closely to the sentiment. You can see my comment on her post on peeing the bed if you’re looking for my nocturnal “issue.” (Hint: it’s also possibly why I have had so many short-term relationships.)
Like me, Susan also has an eight-year-old son, and so we are both headed to the same corner of heaven or wherever mothers who once had eight-year-old sons go. I’m less sure about where it is and more sure that it is quiet and comfy and decidedly free of Lego and unexplained urine on the floor. Here’s her beautiful letter to him on his 8th birthday. These lines in particular have stuck with me since I read it:
Although recently your teacher told me that you and one of your besties got into a disagreement — a misunderstanding, really — and that you both cried. “And when she cried,” you told me, your chin wobbling, “I felt like I was responsible for every bad thing that ever happened to her ever.” And I thought, Honey, it’s not like you two have been married for 17 years.
And now, I’m back to bed. I had a bit of a fluey thing going on this last week. I pushed it aside to go out Saturday night with some lovely ladies, and while I had a great time, the truth is my achy bones are reminding me that I was up way past my bedtime. (I haven’t even seen the sun fully set in months which puts my average bedtime at approximately 5:30 pm. AND I LIKE IT THAT WAY.
And here I am at MamaPop.com, where I warn the boys in One Direction about the Yoko Ono powers of Taylor Swift.
Have a great week, everyone!