Are You A Procrastinator?

I find as I get older, I tend to forget some things. It doesn’t happen all the time, and there’s now rhyme or reason to which I can point that gives me an inkling when I will forget to do something.

Usually when I have something important to do, I will set a reminder on my phone with an alert to give me adequate time to attend to that matter. I’m sure anyone reading these words does the same.

I don’t just set reminders for appointments, but also do so for tasks I deem important, such as just making a phone call to someone the next day. It’s not a critical, the world-will-end-if-I-don’t-make-that-call reminder. More likely it’s a phone call my wife wants me to make to handle some minor aspect of household matters. Personally, those are fodder for my tendency of procrastination.

I’d like to think I set reminders because I’m a very busy guy. In truth, I put things off. There, I said it.

Anyone who knows me personally, is fully aware of my proclivity toward procrastination. But lately, I’ve been able to blame minor lapses on just forgetting to do something. After all, old folks are supposed to be forgetful.

Having just completed my 7th decade on this Earth, my wife has officially declared me ‘Old’. C’mon, people far older than I are running for President. Come to think of it, they are pretty forgetful too.

I maintain I’m just a procrastinator.

On the other hand, just writing this essay, I’ve had to stop several times to ‘think’ about just the right word to use in this spot or another. I used to be able to write along without those pauses. Thank God for a thesaurus at my fingertips on my laptop.

I’ve gotten so proficient at looking up that correct word, it’s hardly a pause at all. But a pause is a pause, dangit.

I must be a procrastinator. There’s no other suitable explanation for a man of my impeccable writing credentials.

Let’s consider. I know much younger people who get up to do something. They walk into another room … and forget what they wanted to do there. Younger people.

Science apparently can explain that phenomenon. You leave familiar surroundings and go into a room with new surroundings thus wiping your mind clear of the old surroundings, including the reason for you to move in the first place. That explains why when you return to your original spot, you can remember why you moved.

Of course, that reasoning can’t help me when I write. I seldom get up and move once I start writing. If I get up, it’s just to stretch and sit back down. I will take no risk at forgetting what I’m writing. Lord knows, I type slow enough to forget what I want to say.

Some folks say that being easily distracted is a sign of procrastination. Or, is that a sign of forgetfulness? Neither explanation works for me. When I write, I’m in the zone. When I’m in the zone nothing short of a scream in my ear jolts me out of it. So my wife complains.

When she finally gets my attention, half the conversation is over. Oh well, I think it couldn’t have been too important, or she would have hit me.

My conclusion from this rambling? Procrastination—it’s what’s for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Word Count: 576 words