Let’s read this to­mor­row

Muscat Daily - - NATION -

It has been a very long time since I’ve writ­ten any­thing. The in­ten­tion was never to take such a gi­ant break, espe­cially since I was right here in

Mus­cat and couldn’t pre­tend I didn’t have the time. There is, how­ever, some­thing ex­tremely al­lur­ing about in­ac­tion:

About plain, old pro­cras­ti­na­tion that leads you to come up with rea­sons, or should I say ex­cuses, for not do­ing what you should be do­ing right then.

What is ac­tu­ally more em­bar­rass­ing is that it isn’t as if this is an un­pleas­ant task, or a hor­ri­bly dif­fi­cult task that I would want to put off. And yet there I was. It wasn’t easy, be­lieve me, to come up with some­thing be­sides the dreaded ‘I don’t feel like it’ ex­cuse af­ter I had taken the one-month Ra­madan break.

Ev­ery week when Mon­day rolled around, just as it did this week, I felt a twinge of guilt but man­aged to dis­tract my­self suc­cess­fully with some imag­i­nary ‘save the world’, ‘save the dol­phins’ or ‘save the house from dust’ tasks. I even washed my car on a cou­ple of Mon­days. If I have to sham­poo, wash and wipe it to an en­vi­able shine, I can’t sit and write too, can I?

You get the drift.

Wak­ing up this Mon­day with a headache and fever seemed like a gift. If you think your head be­ing squeezed slowly by gi­gan­tic pli­ers while Volde­mort stares at you is a good thing, it’s time to do some soul-search­ing.

With Panadol, my best friend, by my side, I came to the con­clu­sion that the trou­ble was that writ­ing the col­umn hadn’t been put in the Work Box in my head. I was treat­ing it as some­thing I like to do, like paint­ing or writ­ing fic­tion, both of which I al­ways have a mil­lion rea­sons ready for not do­ing. (It doesn’t help not to have a Gor­gon ed­i­tor like my­self to tell me to just get it done.)

Be­ing here for the sum­mer is ac­tu­ally very peace­ful. It struck me that each time some­one came back and asked what had been hap­pen­ing, my stock an­swer was - noth­ing much. As al­ways, things are a bit quiet, espe­cially af­ter the Ra­madan rush. Traf­fic is great, busi­ness is av­er­age across in­dus­try and there are very few events hap­pen­ing in town. Could it be that this is the sea­son for pro­cras­ti­na­tion for ev­ery­one?

It’s only a cou­ple of weeks till all the schools open and hope­fully that will kick­start ev­ery­thing. It’s amaz­ing that we are al­ready in Au­gust and I don’t have that much to show for it. Here’s hop­ing that the rest of the year goes much bet­ter for us all and pro­cras­ti­na­tion just be­comes a long word in the dic­tionary.

And so, ladies and gen­tle­men, I am back for the fore­see­able fu­ture un­less wash­ing cars - which I am very good at - be­comes my day job. It’s un­likely though, since it would be a tad dif­fi­cult for some­one of my su­pe­rior height to reach the top of a win­dow of a 4WD, let alone the roof.

See you next Tues­day.

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