Procrastination

I sit on hold, while
He watches The Big Valley:
A wasted morning.

This actually was a nice morning until now.  I slept in a reasonable amount, took a nice long shower, had quality time with the pets, cleaned up the kitchen, did the laundry, read a few e-mails, did the crossword.  Nothing earth-shattering, but the moments were happy, and the results pleasing.

"We are currently experiencing a high call volume....you may remain on hold or you may wish to call back another time."

Um, what about a third option:  You stop messing up my claim so I don't have to make this call in the first place.

In a self-flagellating spirit, I make lists of things that I could be doing while I wait:

• Painting the shed
• Going for a walk
• Going through my papers
• Applying for jobs
• Gathering up supplies for the Library craft event
• Writing a letter
• Crafting
• Practicing violin or gamba
• Balancing my budget
• Baking bread
• Practicing tai chi chuh
• Stacking wood

In fact, the only things I can't do right now is Skype with my family or call Project Hope.  So why am I sitting here?

In The Artist's Way, Julie Cameron talks about how to fit her writing into the odd minutes of the day:  waiting to pick up her kid at school, for example.   I've tried that sort of thing, of course.   But I've found that I can't do anything that requires focus if interruptions are imminent or if background noise involves voices.  In college, my roommate could study to the TV.  I can't even carry on a conversation if the TV is on.  Even muting doesn't work for me.  There's something about it that disrupts my thought processes.

However, much of that list up there doesn't really involve thinking.  The tasks are, in fact, eminently interruptible.  In addition, I have plenty of other ways to spend my time.  I carry squares of paper so I can do origami while I sit at the traffic light.  I bring knitting for bus rides or meetings.  Why can't I do that sort of thing now?

The hold music drones on, with the occasional message to reassure me that I am not in limbo.  Except, I am.  I start thinking about the lost minutes of my day.  It's such gorgeous weather.  Shouldn't I be out in it?

The other day I overheard a teacher say to a principal, "No I don't want to talk about it.  I've already give 2 hours of my life to it."  Yes.  I think we allow too much of our beautiful lives to be  swallowed up.   And too much of our energy goes to finding reasons for not doing something about it.

Enough.