“Procrastination is the thief of time.” Edward Young, an eighteenth century British poet, may have said it first, but in my mind I’ll always attribute it to my high school chemistry teacher. I think it was the way he said it. “Procrastination is the…thief…of time.” Just like that. Whenever I’m tempted to procrastinate, I hear his voice in my head. Don’t remember a thing about chemistry or the proper use of test tubes, Bunsen burners and pipettes, but those words will always haunt me.
So when is procrastination no longer procrastination but a breathing moment? When is a breathing moment procrastination? I’ve been examining this question a fair amount as I get back into the whirlwind of school and its demands. With three kids in three different schools on three different schedules, I’ve got my work cut out for me. I foresee that my “breathing moments” are going to become even more important as the year progresses.
Will I have that guilty feeling I get when I’m procrastinating? As I sit on my front porch watching red and yellow and brown leaves fall from the maple and poplar trees, will I be able to forget two stories waiting to be edited, my as yet unfinished work-in-progress, PTO emails to be sent and two loads of laundry waiting to be folded? Will I be able to keep my breathing moments from becoming a short-lived thing of the past?
I have every intention of hushing that little voice of my old teacher whenever he pipes up. Shhh. I’m not procrastinating. I’m breathing.
Breathing Moment: Took my kids to the pool. One last hurrah before summer ended. I sat on the edge of the baby pool watching my three-year-old play and my six-year-old jump from the diving board. My ten-year-old is already back at school. He probably needs a breathing moment or two.
Greenpoints: Instead of throwing away the disposable plastic plates my kids used for breakfast, I washed them. It would have been easier to throw them out, and washing them sort of defeats the purpose of disposable plates, but even a couple of extra uses might help.