Ahh, the safe confines of home. The childhood smells; laundry, mince, my brother’s feet… Yes, I am at home, but no, the sweet floating memories of my childhood have not inspired me one bit. I have written a grand total of zilch for the past two weeks. I put it down to the excessive hours waitressing at my local café (28-30 hours a week) and the sudden requirement that I spend my few days off amusing my younger sister. Not that I can entirely complain – free cinema tickets and shopping money are never something to complain about. Unfortunately, while I have been quite busy, I have had some time to write. I have spent that time doing the things that all procrastinators like to practice. Here are a few examples:
- Hmm, should I try and write my fantabulous next novel I haven’t yet thought of? Well…I think I should check Facebook first – just in case I get into the flow and forget later.[1]
- Why don’t I read the paper (or a book, or TV[2]) to get some inspiration?[3]
- Is it noon already? Time for lunch and a ‘break’.
If you’d like to add to the list, feel free to comment. Though I’m not sure helping me procrastinate is the best idea…
Until next time.[4] Cheerio xx
[1] Let me note: this has NEVER happened – how could anyone forget to check Facebook? But then, I’m not sure if I’ve ever overcome procrastination number 1…
[2] Watch TV, of course. Have you ever tried reading one? Very boring.
[3] The paper is actually a good idea, just as long as you actually take note of the interesting stories and don’t skip straight to the lifestyle section.
[4] When I will hopefully have something actually interesting to say, or at least done something other than sit on my arse all day.
