Procrastination is a Dirty Word

I’m finding it so easy to procrastinate today. Maybe I just had too much emotional turbulence in the past few days. But, that doesn’t mean there isn’t a lot to get done.

My brother wrote me the loveliest (I know men will cringe at the very word) letter to go with my business proposal. He is going to be my financial backer.

To Whom it May Concern,

I (name omitted) do firmly believe in my sister’s (name omitted) business plan and have no problem in backing her financially as well as with my own business experience also having been self employed 17 years now.

I do have the financial resources to help Laura (you already knew that much of my name) and am glad to see her excited about this new business venture.


I’m going to get a copy to keep over my PC monitor. Sort of a “remember to kick your own ass” thing.

The weekend was pretty good really, just a bit of drama. My sister’s second husband told her first son that he could always call the police and have Zack sent to live with the Children’s Aid. Of course, I was so furious (Zack and I were at the door getting ready to leave for the movies) that I couldn’t stop for our coffee treat until after I had gone to my sister (she owns her own biz and was working there) to tell her what Wayne had said. Also, I wanted to make sure Zack know what a load of meaningless, stupid, pansy-assed shite that was. As IF we would ever let Zack go.

Before the weekend I wrote about my ex, things I have kept to myself since the divorce blog burning ceremony a couple/ few years ago. Ripping off those kind of scabs is not easy on your equilibrium. But, someone had inferred that I was not over my ex yet. I am, I don’t even plot to do evil to him any more. I seldom think of him except when something else reminds me of him. How can you not think at all of an ex? Even if you never see him again, that was a big chunk of your life. A lot of shared experiences, a lot of firsts, a lot of time and thoughts shared. When you talk about your life experiences an ex is bound to come up as you have made them a part of a lot of those experiences. That doesn’t mean you want a round two. Far, far, far from it.

Anyway, Zack and I did go to the movies. He picked Last Holiday. I was stunned, literally speechless for at least a full minute. Zack always picks the stuff I wouldn’t pay to see, let alone sit through. Today he picked a movie I had really wanted to see but wouldn’t have even thought to ask him about. Last Holiday is the one where the woman works for a store, hits her head and is told she has three weeks to live. So she blows all her money on fulfilling her book of possibilities, things she wanted to do but never hand the … for. The movie was great. We both liked it.

We also had coffee and treats at Zavida. I bought a sack of coffee to have here too. A caramel flavour which I tried and loved last time. I had it in the car all the way driving back. It was great to inhale, almost masked the car exhaust or whatever that is stinking up the wreckage buggy now. I love my car, why can’t it love me too? I keep wishing a new car would roll off one of those trucks always going by here and come to a gentle stop in my driveway. Really, couldn’t you just unscrew your old plates and attach them to the new car? Who would know? I never get stopped for anything, I’m a nice grrl. I don’t even park illegally.

Maybe that’s why I’m not getting a lot done this morning, online quizes don’t count. Just too much drama and brain wave activity. I sometimes make a mental list of what needs to be done but the important part of that is putting it in order of how it will best be accomplished. I am finally learning to live with the organizational aspect of myself. Previously I had decided to ignore her. Afterall, she just gets in the way of being creative. Taking time out to put things away, sort things out and such is just so anal. Well, I am reforming myself there. I am putting things away and sorting them out. It is good. Not easy, but good. Maybe good is too strong of a word. It’s… umm… less cluttered.

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