Recently while perusing the shelves of my local Christian book store, I came across a read about organization and the womanly follower of Christ. I claim one of those titles as a description of myself ... not the organizer one (in case there was a question). Although it wasn't the topic I sought on that particular day, I humored myself by reviewing a few of the book's pages.
In a few moments' time, my life was changed. I have been a life-long procrastinator. I proclaim it - and even apologize for it - often. I don't mean to be. It just happens. I stick my head in the sand rather than keep it up to witness all those messy pebbles ... you know, that, uh, form the beach. If I ignore it, it isn't there, right? If I wait to do it, it'll go away, right? Or there's always tomorrow. Right? Right?!
Take, for instance, the dishwasher. Did you know I loathe cleaning out the dishwasher? I mean, I can procrastinate on it all day. (If hubby's out of town, days and days, really.) You know what I learned in my book review Friday? It takes four minutes to clean out the dishwasher, on average. Four Minutes. Seriously? I tried it today. It was less than five. All day - 18 hours plus of awake time, I will watch the pile grow and grow in the sink and know, fully, in my head, that it needs to be done. Someone needs to clean out the dishwasher. Not me. I won't be the one. If I wait long enough little elvish maids will pop out from my junk drawers (yes, plural) and save me. I mean my sink. Yet, four minutes. That's all it would take to just end the horror of growing grossness in the stainless.
Hmm. Imagine how many days it takes to move the wet clothes from the washer to the dryer. I mean, seriously.
I think I probably need to go back and buy that book.