"Procrastination is the thief of time!", they say, shortly after saying "There is no 'I' in 'team'" and shortly before I deck them. They are wrong, of course; procrastination is brilliant and it is good for you. I have proof from an academic 'type' to prove it, and at some point I will get it and show it to you.
In the meantime, here are the things I am definitely going to do.
... the drawings. The Corndog one will be multi-media. The pathologist will help. (NB the cat will be still be alive after the piece has been created.)
... send the badges. (You know who you are. It is not that I do not love you; it is just that the effort involved in being in the right house when I remember them + finding envelopes with glue that sticks + finding a pen + finding a stamp + going to the post-office + having to justify my small parcel in bad French to a pathologically nosy and bureaucratic postmistress = makes me want to lie down)
... send Dave Shelton who I love the 3 books that I bought for him nearly a year a go and that are sitting in an Amazon box in the hall (see above - problem will be solved if I allow myself to drive, which I refuse to do if there is even 1mm of snow on the ground; particularly problematic if you are in Canada)
... send my brother and his wife their wedding present, which is a bit shit seeing as they got married in October last year (it is really good though - it is a KitchenAid! They will deffo forgive me when it actually arrives)
... find someone to clean the flat (I make no apology for this and stare with cold unrelenting eyes at people who make prissy "can't you clean your own HOME*" faces, their tiny judgmental lips making like a cat-arse)
... take up the remaining sessions of laser hair removal, paid for a year ago and still not finished (I am not afraid, I just keep forgetting - it is quite marvellous and works and works, even on my pelted monkeylegs)
... go to the dentist and get a checkup and a clean and a quote for having them changed from pale yellow (like the piss of a well-hydrated muskrat) to pale, pale cream (like a Canadian with beautiful teeth)
... go to the special dentist and get my preposterous weirdo false tooth (that appears to have been implanted in my jaw with old baler twine, twigs and screws stolen from broken sunglasses), x-rayed again and possibly replaced
... have a Ladycheck, which is quite difficult because: a) I do not have a National Health card thing, because my work permit has run out and with it my health card, although b) even if I did, I haven't got a GP because no-one in Quebec does; and c) I would find one of those "Ladyclinics" and pay cashmoney, except I don't know where to look and thinking about it makes me want to hide
... explain what has been going on the last few months, which I can't (for reasons that will become obvious, but that are not that interesting and do not involve my health, relationships, Sting being impaled on his own lute, etc).
I am going to do the ironing now. With any luck, it will be the last day I do the ironing because I am going to pay someone else to do it. (At some point.)
Pip Pip!
NWM
* they always say "home", these sorts of people, instead of "house" or "flat" or "tent" or "caravan", or whatever it is they live in.
In the meantime, here are the things I am definitely going to do.
... the drawings. The Corndog one will be multi-media. The pathologist will help. (NB the cat will be still be alive after the piece has been created.)
... send the badges. (You know who you are. It is not that I do not love you; it is just that the effort involved in being in the right house when I remember them + finding envelopes with glue that sticks + finding a pen + finding a stamp + going to the post-office + having to justify my small parcel in bad French to a pathologically nosy and bureaucratic postmistress = makes me want to lie down)
... send Dave Shelton who I love the 3 books that I bought for him nearly a year a go and that are sitting in an Amazon box in the hall (see above - problem will be solved if I allow myself to drive, which I refuse to do if there is even 1mm of snow on the ground; particularly problematic if you are in Canada)
... send my brother and his wife their wedding present, which is a bit shit seeing as they got married in October last year (it is really good though - it is a KitchenAid! They will deffo forgive me when it actually arrives)
... find someone to clean the flat (I make no apology for this and stare with cold unrelenting eyes at people who make prissy "can't you clean your own HOME*" faces, their tiny judgmental lips making like a cat-arse)
... take up the remaining sessions of laser hair removal, paid for a year ago and still not finished (I am not afraid, I just keep forgetting - it is quite marvellous and works and works, even on my pelted monkeylegs)
... go to the dentist and get a checkup and a clean and a quote for having them changed from pale yellow (like the piss of a well-hydrated muskrat) to pale, pale cream (like a Canadian with beautiful teeth)
... go to the special dentist and get my preposterous weirdo false tooth (that appears to have been implanted in my jaw with old baler twine, twigs and screws stolen from broken sunglasses), x-rayed again and possibly replaced
... have a Ladycheck, which is quite difficult because: a) I do not have a National Health card thing, because my work permit has run out and with it my health card, although b) even if I did, I haven't got a GP because no-one in Quebec does; and c) I would find one of those "Ladyclinics" and pay cashmoney, except I don't know where to look and thinking about it makes me want to hide
... explain what has been going on the last few months, which I can't (for reasons that will become obvious, but that are not that interesting and do not involve my health, relationships, Sting being impaled on his own lute, etc).
I am going to do the ironing now. With any luck, it will be the last day I do the ironing because I am going to pay someone else to do it. (At some point.)
Pip Pip!
NWM
* they always say "home", these sorts of people, instead of "house" or "flat" or "tent" or "caravan", or whatever it is they live in.
