At some point you, me, and all of us have to stop putting things off for a better time. Decisions, actions, tasks, both big and small that are always a little more suited for other times, better times, (or my favorite) for when we’re all a little older. It’s been a reliable exercise, a cover up job even, that feels like I’m allowing myself constant forward motion, eliminating blockers like some sort of professional life liver.
It’s like when I spend an entire weekend organizing a closet I’ve been unceremoniously shoving everything valuable, necessary, and extra in since forever. Out of sight and out of mind indeed—at least for now. But I know the mess is there and it bothers me. Just not enough to deal with it. So after a while the mess cannot be ignored any longer because the knowledge of it invades my daily ignorance and grows into something so untenable that it is mandatory for me to stop and deal with it. So, I carve out time from my busy life and commit to going through all of that stuff and organizing it; coldly sorting through my own things, heirlooms, and what not like they’re not even mine to begin with. In this moment I am back in control and question why I can’t live an amazing, controlled, and organized life all the time. In this process I promote useful things to new positions in the closet, fold and donate others, and unemotionally trash the rest. And then when I’m near finished, and everything starts looking real good again, I inevitably look behind my foot and notice that I have this little pile of random bits and crap that I have no clue what to do with. I’m tired. Spent. Some of the bits are clearly garbage, but they are so close to other more important things that I am confused as to how to proceed. So I don’t. I shove it all back into a new container, into a new corner that will eventually be the sourdough starter for yet another of these episodes.
It’s just like that.
Lately everything is getting old. This routine, me, and everyone around me. My practice of deferring and its awesome side effect of stretching out hours of good times for days or even weeks is losing its effectiveness and charm. I now know I’m delayed and overdue all the time, and just in case I forget for a moment the biggest reminder is looking in the mirror and realizing the older person I’m holding out for is already here.