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Sunday... a prime example of the "dammit, I haven't done my homework" syndrome. The Curse of the Great Procrastinator. These are the shackles I bear. As if the beginning of the work week wasn't total ass, there's this as added garnish. The road to hell, paved with good intentions: finishing the detail work on the loo (and informing Ilsa, She Wolf of the SS that the base was leakily reinstalled... FONKy!). Sowing another weeks worth of peppers... grinding the same, so the door on the "deep freeze" will shut. Typing up playlists that have been sitting in a pile next to the scanner. Throwing Mr. Clampett's motorcycle helmet back together to return to him (since he never brought the custom paint for the airbrush job). Calling the station to get them to send Jazz marathon guides before Friday. Running to the store to get a birthday card for my mother... (aka "the Old Dragon") All to be done by noontime. Yeah, right. Well, the last fixtures are up and the tile now impregnable, at least... and the door now closes. The peppers are picked. And that just about did it for Sunday. As soon as Six Feet came on, it was Zu-Zu Zombieland. Comatose. Which makes Monday morning the Quagmire of Frustration. Everything has to be done before the car's packed, or else it won't be touched 'til I get back. Another reason why I'm not too fond of my life, at this point. But, that's the shit I set myself up for. Too Many Irons In The Fire... since creation. Maybe I should've gone through shock treatments at an early age... whenever I exhibited too many aptitudes and interests (and too many came too easily), ZZZapppp! Focus! To business administration with you! Some of the things that are queueing up: Getting the Trooper's cylinder head back and reinstalled... and all back on the road. Yet more chopping in the woods, before the hunters make life... interesting. Make a stab at junking the rotted Cortinas. Seeing if the station manager has made an attempt at doing something with my bumpersticker/stationery proposals. Restretching the Haile Selassie canvas for the cultural center. Recovering the bass cabinet, to see if I really want to sell my instruments (Or play them again). Reorganizing the LPs and CDs so there is some semblance of order. The pile of cartoon ideas... airbrushing and sandblasting projects. There was a song by the Comsat Angels... "I can't relax 'cause I haven't done a thing, And I haven't done a thing, so I can't relax." Dag. Of course, a little inspiration wouldn't hurt... and try as I might, being a guy of convention just isn't cutting it. Plus being load-locked to the maximum. Miss Jane says "I feel like I'm holding you back," as she stomps around when I finally do get busy... whilst reading the newspaper, and dreaming of her grown daughter, and helping her move out on her husband. I don't think there's a drug for this. Cold comfort. Monday must be "Poor Me" day, as well. |
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