the perils of procrastination

Everything is a jumble around here. I can’t find one coherent topic to write about, except that I saw some movies for the first time and I ought to write about those, but I can’t even think of anything particularly entertaining to say about them. When I’m at a loss for movie rants, you know it’s been a weird week.
Mostly I’ve been sick with some nasty viral thingy that crept into my throat and attached my tonsils and the inside of my mouth in a really disgusting way. Not only did I feel miserably ill, but I felt entirely grossed out every time I looked in my mouth. I still have a sore throat and a tender mouth but at least it’s not icky anymore, just red. I am very thankful.

The nasty virus thingy decided it would be fun to attack me a week before one of the products that I document was supposed to be finished. I tried to work as much as possible, fell behind anyway, ended up looking like a disorganized procrastinator (shhh! no one’s supposed to know that about me) and will probably have to endure some chastising from managerial types. All I can do to fix it is to keep working hard, meet deadlines for my other projects, apologize for getting sick at the wrong time — I mean for not planning ahead for this potential situation, and draw up lists of ways to prevent it from happening again. Also, I intend to look penitent.
Actually, everyone around me at work seems at least a little sick and a little stressed. It must be that time of year. Perhaps we all need donuts. Hmm.
When I wasn’t in the office trying to catch up on work, or in bed having coughing fits, or in the kitchen forcing liquids, I was at my desk trying to catch up on freelance work that was seriously behind deadline. I designed adorable logos. I created a Web site using CSS for appearance and positioning. I tried to organize my bills. I tried to organize my desk.
We have a houseguest arriving on Friday night, and I still have to organize my bedroom. That Damned Daybed is covered in clothes because there’s a table blocking the chest of drawers. The bookcase is blocked with my writing desk. It’s a big chaotic mess waiting for me to sort it out, probably tomorrow or Thursday.
Before I go to bed I have to wash a sink full of dishes because I keep procrastinating on getting someone to fix the dishwasher. In my defense, the upcoming bill for the electrician is going to eat up all the home repair money for a short while. That’s my excuse. You would think that washing a lot of dinner pots and pans would inspire me to call. At some point I am sure that it will.
Oh, and let’s not forget the pink and sparkly tree. I packed away the ornaments but I still haven’t untangled all the lights and folded the tree up to store in its little box for another year. I would really like to do that before the houseguest appears on the scene.
Now do you see why I haven’t been motivated to write very much? I’m so bogged down by incredibly mundane stuff that I can’t find very much inspiration. Besides, for the past week, all I’ve really truly wanted to do is curl up in a lump on my bed and not move. And not cough, either.
I’ll come back when I’ve managed to subvert all the mundane details to my will, so I can twist them into stories that are a lot more entertaining than this entry.