After the scorching week at the end of March, April showers are rolling in a little heavier than just plip plip plop now. I am perched on my radiator, risking hemerrhoids from the direct heat contact. I was previously wrapped in a faux fur blanket & wishing it was a slanket, given that I still had to expose my arms to reach my mug of steaming tea.
It’s already been a long week; I have things to do.
I have work I have decided to pretend to myself I will do at home.
I have laundry to do in prep for being away for the weekend.
I have dinner to make.
I have more of these to write!
But I am perched on the radiator in my room, having only been able to muster the effort to make another mug of tea, flicking through a magazine, and twiddling with my phone.
Mothers don’t do this. Or rather mine doesn’t. ‘This’ being frittering away their time not doing things which need to be done. Which will still need to be done in an hour when you are regrettably, more tired. Things which will still need to be done on the weekend when you don’t have the time and must find the time. Unpicking minutes from the market trawling and bar attending and Sunday eating that is the too rich tapestry of your weekend. They will still be waiting to be done when you run out of pants and tights, inevitably on Monday morning, setting up another week with you caught on the hop.
Active or passive, procrastinating wastes time which goes against all logic as surely, we are all about making time. Every minute has a possible use these days, smart phones have seen to that. What good does eternal procrastinating do us? These mundane tasks that hundreds of generations have done before us, and will continue to do after. Why not just get on with them? The inevitability; avoidance is futile.
Do we dislike the repetition? The loss of momentum in the day from having to be a bit mundane for a while? The predictability? The expectation? I fought with Mum throughout my unreasonable teen years, about having to do chores. The tedium! How half baked a job could I make of a task before being exempted from having to ever do it again? How long could I put it off hanging out the laundry for? Usually only until I heard a key in the front door. Rebellion v pocket money; rebellion pays less. Knowing everything, as only a 16 year old can, I saw no reason for my involvement in anything dull, and the longer I could stay away from these things, the better. In reality however, lots of things are very tedious and on a very consistent basis. At least one element of your day job is tedious, one or several things on your ‘To Do list’ is tedious, probably one of your friends is tedious! (none of you are…honestly…) but you still have to grin, bear and get on with it.
As part of a generation raised to believe that we can have everything, and with technology bending to allow us to have more, and increasingly quickly, we have forgotten to factor in the humdrum. Like a good sitcom, sometimes there will be a ‘move the story along episode’, and if we’ve learned anything from F.R.I.E.N.D.S it is surely that life is one big sit com? That there are just some parts you have to get through for the bigger story arc to become clear.
The smaller storyline will probably see you procrastinating on The Small Things instead of making the bug decision or committing to the job. Things like not emailing your landlord about a broken tap until suddenly you have no hot water or staying awake until 2am waiting for your laundry to finish so you can then run the drier and pack for your trip in the morning. Is it fear that from staying in of an evening you’ll flash forward 7 years ahead to an age softened you cleaning out the understairs cupboard in your new semi detached? A bit of dull isn’t catching, it doesn’t spread to your entire life and much like during exam season, when you’ll remember, your room had never been so spotless, getting on with something isn’t always a bad thing.
So here I am, perched on another radiator (kitchen now) watching the kettle boil for my 4th cup of tea, inhaling the scent of another successful bread machine loaf, awaiting the chirp of the washing machine to announce it has also done it’s job. If ‘getting the job done’ is this easy, I might do it more often.