It began to snow on and off on Saturday morning. I knew I was out of cream for Sunday’s morning coffee, so heading to the grocery store sometime during the day was a given. The snow stopped about noon. Plenty of time to buy the cream.
Procrastination got the better of me.
I am in the process of renovating my kitchen, but before I can proceed with removing the kitchen sink and counters in order to finish the floor and put in the new sink and cabinets, I need to move my too-heavy refrigerator. Before I can do that, to make it lighter, I have to transfer the contents to the basement’s chest freezer and spare fridge. First, I have to edit the contents of the basement appliances to make room for the upstairs food stash — there’s stuff in both the upstairs and downstairs refrigerators whose spent freezer lives are beyond calculation. But before I could accomplish anything, I needed to throw the old stuff out. Trash and garbage pickup where I live happens on Monday morning. That’s where I had to deposit my 40 or so pounds of still-frozen expired food — another given. I’d accomplish the task on the way to the store to get my Sunday morning cream. Not a problem.
As always, procrastination has a way of becoming a two-edged sword: it feels great until you need to get a grip on it.
By the time I had my freezer juggling shenanigans in line, it had begun to snow again. Sunset was slipping away, the temperature was dropping, and I was most certainly still out of cream. Clutching the steering wheel and peering through the dazzling flurry of headlight-frozen flakes, I passed by my garbage cans. The carefully prepared bag of frozen trash-food was still sitting on my front porch where I had forgotten it, a quarter mile away. A deer scampered across the road, but getting cream for my Sunday coffee took precedence over stopping to admire the fleeting streak of brown. By the time I hit the main highway, the snowfall was furious and unrelenting. Huge, wet, fat flakes that stuck to the frozen ground and clung to the pavement.
Except for a handful of guilt-ridden procrastinators just like me, the grocery store was nearly empty. We all sped around the aisles like bumper car drivers at an amusement park, although none of us were amused. Outside the storefront windows that were covered with hand-lettered store specials, the blizzard was in full tilt. Streaks of sleet shot down in steeper angles than the lighter flakes of snow, while more newcomer procrastinators scurried across the parking lot.
Hunkered behind the steering wheel with 3 cartons of cream sitting safely on the passenger seat, I promised I’d never procrastinate again. Ever. When I pulled past the empty trash cans into my driveway, the snow stopped as quickly as if someone had snipped off the source with a gigantic pair of scissors. Sure glad I waited for the blizzard before driving to the store! After I put the cream in the newly emptied upstairs refrigerator, I decided to grab the bag of frozen trash off my front porch and drive it back to the trash cans right then and there, but when I opened the front door the blizzard had resumed. Not wanting lions and tigers or bears to feast overnight on my outdoor bag of frozen, unwanted goodies, I wisely carried it back down to the basement and stuffed it into an overfilled freezer. No problem: after all, there was still plenty of time left before Monday morning’s trash collection.
Some promises are never meant to be taken seriously.
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