Oh, the Irony

Yesterday I wrote a business article on effective time management. Ha! That's rich.

To be fair, I am normally pretty good about managing my time. I maximize my body's energy levels, get into the right attitude, focus on getting one thing done at a time, take reasonable breaks, blah blah blah. (If you want to know what my steadfast advice is on time management, you can check my web site in a few weeks -- it'll be there under Articles & News.) The problem isn't about knowing how to use my time wisely, it's actually DOING it.

After having just finished my morning puttering session, I sat down with checkbook in hand and a stack of bills. Even after having done this mundane exercise for over two decades, it puts me in a crabby mood each and every time. Now that I'm done with that odious chore, I start staring at my to-do list. As I continue to stare at it, I secretly hope that my powerful intention alone will clean the office, file the papers, and make the phone calls. After a good bit of staring, I stop thinking about the tasks and start analyzing my penmanship. Look how curly my capital 'L' is on the 'Local Bookstores' item! It's interesting that I don't cross my 't's in the 'edit article' item! It seems that the water wave doodle is my favorite to use! Hmmm... oh yeah. I need to be focusing on getting some shit done.

After wasting a noteworthy amount of time on eyeing the to-do list, I start walking around the house. Upon entering the office and surveying the piles of receipts, cards, calendars, letters, promotional items, and other landfillers that need to be categorized, managed, shipped, and/or filed, I quickly back away from that God-awful disaster until I am emotionally equipped to handle its immensity.

The kitchen can always be a good distraction. On this morning, however, there is nothing to be done. The dishes are washed, the pantry is organized, and stuff is all neatly back in its place.

I go to the meditation room briefly entertaining the notion of moving my body. No can do. After yesterday's rebounder/hooping/balance ball nightmare of a workout, my lower back is screaming at me. My abbreviated yoga and meditation session this morning at 6:00 is all she wrote; this ol' bod needs to recover for at least another day.

How about laundry? Can I do some laundry? (Oh jeez, this CAN'T be happening. I'm actually asking to perform that foul activity.) Nope. All the laundry is done.

So here I sit at 10:15 am, approximately two hours after I sat down to "work", and I have nothing but a small stack of stamped bills to show for it. I need an energetic catalytic converter to kick my ass into gear!! If I don't get it, I'm relatively sure I'll perform one of my time management article "Don'ts": farting around on YouTube for the next five hours until I need to pick up The Bean from the bus stop.

NO MORE! I've decided that I will go to the post office to drop off those icky bills and get them out of the house. During my drive, I will psych myself up enough to tackle the office cleanup and start my independent bookstore project in earnest. I must! I will!

UGH. Sometimes it's so much friggin' easier to talk it than to walk it.

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