Getting On With It

I have an undisciplined nature. I know what I should be doing at any given time on any given day, but lack any internal stimulus. I am one of those unfortunate souls graced by the Deadly Sin of Sloth. The movie "7" filled me with dread when I beheld the unfortunate victim of the serial killer who choose to tie the man down to a table so that movement was impossible... the man, according to the script, basically rotted alive, ate his own tongue in fact, in a desperate attempt to assuage his hunger.

Yes, a freakish tale, and most unlikely: hunger will prompt even the laziest among us to waddle to the fridge in search of something to eat... Yet the scene still upset me because I feared, at the time, that I was in fact, slothful.

Now, there are times when I'm filled with energy and enthusiasm and am a veritable perpetual-motion machine. Preparing for guests, for instance, creates an absolute flurry of activity. Laundry is done, floors are washed, surfaces cleared off, shopping done, delicacies prepared, at breakneck speed.

Christmas is one of those times I am capable of an enormous output of activity. The schedule looms large: making sure I see this person and that person on the correct date with gifts in hand... That particular "festive" time can make me, and many thousands of others, appear like Tasmanian Devils.

Whoosh! - off to the mall, and whoosh! - make a gift, and whoosh! - receive guests....

Dizzying degrees of activity.

And then, with a sudden THUMP, like 40 inches of snow delivered overnight, it stops.

And I stop, too.

Yesterday, I noticed around noon that I had no bread left. Today, also around noon, I finally went out to get some. But not because I felt the need to: no, because there was no food for Bijou to eat. If not for her, I wouldn't have bothered. The fact that I must return to work tomorrow, and therefore bring something for my lunch, didn't enter into it. That's tomorrow's problem.

No, today I had toast because I HAD to make food for my cat.

I caught up on Facebook today. Sent some emails. Looked up some comics on the web. Read a book for an hour. Napped. Did some laundry. Oh yes, I've even loaded the dishwasher.

The Christmas tree remains up, shelves remain un-organized, projects un-started, the "disaster room" untouched.

Mentally, I say to myself, "Deborah - get GOING on this!"

And just as quickly the retort comes back, "Why?"

"Because it needs to be done!"

"In who's opinion? What for? Where's the fire?"

And then I flop back down on the couch.

This has been my pattern al my life. Without the addition of (external) deadlines, I fear I am quite capable of doing absolutely nothing at all - for a very scary length of time!

A former boyfriend of mine once gave me a Garfield sticker that said "If I were any lazier, I'd slip into a coma." I thought it was hilarious at the time and stuck it up over my laundry sink...

Then, as the years went by, I began to get the sneaking feeling that it might be true, even just a little bit...

And even just a little bit is frightening. I occasionally watch the show "Hoarders" on tv. In fact, the very first time I watched it, I was busy cleaning up my "disaster room", and the show proved MOST motivational! Every time I'd get tired and sit down, there was someone else sitting in the middle of their shit, complaining when people were trying to clean it up - and back I'd go into the room, determined to go through yet another box.

But you see, that particular area is now more or less accessible, so I have no particular reason to work in it any more. I can find most of what I need to in a relatively short space of time, so all sense of urgency has vanished.

And sure, there's still clutter on some shelves, and there are a couple of big pots to wash... but why should I care? Nobody's coming over any time soon.

There is simply no sense of urgency. Therefore, there is no particular reason to do anything!

Once, somebody explained to me that when you work under the proverbial gun for any extended period, a certain amount of lethargy was normal afterwards.

But after today, and yesterday, and the day before that, I fear that the next deadline is much to far away to be of help to me. It's unnerving just how long I can sit and do absolutely nothing at all.

So, hopefully, getting back to work soon will instill some sense of wanting to get things done in me. A least for a little while. Till I can brainwash myself into the appropriate level of urgency to make me start the next quilt or bake the next batch or clear the next shelf...

Anybody got any firecrackers?