Procrastination is an art: the truly professional practice what I call active procrastination. This means that they complete other tasks on their "to do" lists in order to avoid the most pressing, or most onerous chore.
I am nothing if not a consummate professional.
That's right kids, I have chosen Friday April 14th to finally gather my tax documents. I have been piling them (along with seemingly every other scrap of paper to enter the house) on my recently purchased desk. Every weekend in March (and, um, April) I've said that I will organize the desk, get the tax docs in order and just file. This is especially ridiculous because the gubmint owes me money. Big time. And I could have had it months ago. This offends my desi sense of thrift, but I'm learning to accept being (very) imperfect and roll with it, so .... taxes get done when they get done.
Sorting through the piles of paper, I found the printout I made for myself when I was moving out here. It has my flight information, the Star's directions to his car in long term parking (he flew to Thailand the day before I flew in to SF), directions from the airport to PetCo and then on to the Star's place. (I am by turns a procrastinator and absurdly detail-oriented.)
The date on that flight: Sept. 15th. I've been a Bay area resident for 7 months. Going through papers from that time, I remember the excitement (disguised at times as the giant knot in my stomach.) The deep, deep cleansing breathes. The "stop the world, I want to get off" roller coaster of emotions, and interminable lists of things to do. (At one point, I'm pretty sure I had a list of lists!) Trying to be excited about the upcoming changes in the face of anxiety, buyer's remorse and renovating my condo with my dad.
And I'd do it all again in a heartbeat. At this very moment - 12:33 am - sitting on the floor of my apartment and listening to some BDP accompanied by Gia purring - life is sweet.