Thinking is key to procrastination
September 1 is significant for us.
The first official day of spring and my late father-in-law’s birthday — happy birthday Dad.
It also means we are exactly one week away from the start of the 2017 mustering season.
The men are busy organising vehicles, fuel, tucker boxes, tyres and a whole heap of other stuff that will be required.
Number one son arrived home with a car load of various requirements, number two son will be back soon with more supplies, including the vital liquid ones for the workers.
So what am I doing to contribute towards mustering?
Well. I’m doing a lot of thinking. Thinking I should make some cakes and biscuits, thinking I should clean the spare rooms ready for those helping with mustering, thinking I should make sure there are enough stores for the first round and thinking it would be a good idea if I was to do these things sooner rather than later.
I’m very good at thinking; in fact, I can spend hours doing just that.
It’s the actual “doing” part I have issues with.
There is always something else I can be “doing” that appeals far more than cooking and cleaning.
I think I need some sort of implant with separate on and off switches for my brain and body.
During the day, I could put both the brain and body switch to “on” and I’d be off like a bride’s nightie, doing everything I need to do and maybe a bit more.
At night, I could turn off the switches, so not only would I not decide to cook a cake at midnight but my brain would also not be busy telling me all the things I need to do tomorrow, that I never got around to today. However, given that no such implant exists, I will somehow have to motivate myself.
I might start by convincing myself cooking means you can lick the beaters and taste-test any cakes/biscuits before they go to camp. As for cleaning, it’s just a case of suck it up, princess.
On that note, I’m off to find out if the vacuum cleaner works and if I have the ingredients for a batch of biscuits.
Wish me luck, folks.
Homemade biscuits are always a hit in mustering camp.