I am a procrastinator. There is no sense in denying it. It is who I am through and through.
When I was younger and my mother gave me chores I would always wait until my mom was screaming at me to “stop watching TV and do the dishes!” Of course that is probably pretty normal for kids. There is always something more interesting to do than washing dishes or folding laundry. Heck, I’m an adult with children of my own and I still wait till the last minute to do dishes.
I must confess I am even guilty of spending the day watching TV with my boys, surfing the web, reading and playing around and then I glance up at the clock and see that Running Man man will be home in a half hour. So I hurry into the kitchen and do a load of dishes so that the dish drainer is full and quickly sweep the floor or vacuum so it looks like I was productive.
I am actually guilty of that often.
When I was in school and we had a week to do a project I was always frantically doing it the night before, staying up late and worrying that I wouldn’t get it done. But I always did and usually got a decent grade. Same with tests. I usually studied the night before and sometimes that day in study hall right before the class. I’d usually get a good grade but because I would just cram I didn’t retain much of what I learned and I don’t really remember much of anything now.
Procrastination has always been a viscous cycle and always causes me grief and worry when I wait till the last minute. I always panic and freak out but then I finish it and realize “wow that wasn’t so bad. I wish I would have done it earlier!” But I never do. I could say I never learn but I do, I just don’t put it into practice. I know that if I do things in a timely manor I’d save myself a lot of stress but I just never seem to be able to.
It is my curse.