Priorities: I haven't them
Sep. 22nd, 2012 01:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceSeriously, I never have been able to prioritise well. I've been known to spend two months writing a novella that would only ever pay me five hundred quid. And the same habits apply outside my professional life, which is of course one reason why I'm never properly prepared for anything, and always end up having to busk it.
As witness: as you all know, tomorrow is Speak Like Stephen Maturin, Cook Like Preserved Killick Day. People are coming. I am not ready, the house is not ready, the kitchen is not ready. Nothing is ready. And what am I doing about that?
This morning, I picked two and a half kilos of cherry tomatoes (and barely cleared the fringes of the wildness that is the tomato garden, but that's another story). Tomatoes do not currently feature in my plans for tomorrow. They are now sitting around in vast bowls taking up space I can ill afford.
This afternoon I propose to clear and clean out the fridge. Like the tomato-picking, it is a generically useful action and it does need to be done, but. There are almost certainly actions that are needier and more urgent.
Also, this whole Day is a divagation, when I should be preparing for my green-card interview early on Monday morning (in some ways, I suspect it's a device to make my mind off the scary; I don't often brush up against the formal & official this way, and it makes me nervous*).
However, whatever. Today I will mooch around doing this and that. Tomorrow friends will come, and I will drink quietly all day and cook and stress and it'll be fine. The day after that ... will happen. And then the rest of my life. There's champagne in the fridge; we're keeping at least one bottle of that for Monday. Whatever happens. I love my wife, and I'm taking nothing for granted.
*and sometimes I suspect that very nervousness of being a device, to distract my attention from the work I should seriously have been doing and haven't much. Chaz is apparently fractal: under every anxiety lies another, one layer deeper and otherwise alike.
As witness: as you all know, tomorrow is Speak Like Stephen Maturin, Cook Like Preserved Killick Day. People are coming. I am not ready, the house is not ready, the kitchen is not ready. Nothing is ready. And what am I doing about that?
This morning, I picked two and a half kilos of cherry tomatoes (and barely cleared the fringes of the wildness that is the tomato garden, but that's another story). Tomatoes do not currently feature in my plans for tomorrow. They are now sitting around in vast bowls taking up space I can ill afford.
This afternoon I propose to clear and clean out the fridge. Like the tomato-picking, it is a generically useful action and it does need to be done, but. There are almost certainly actions that are needier and more urgent.
Also, this whole Day is a divagation, when I should be preparing for my green-card interview early on Monday morning (in some ways, I suspect it's a device to make my mind off the scary; I don't often brush up against the formal & official this way, and it makes me nervous*).
However, whatever. Today I will mooch around doing this and that. Tomorrow friends will come, and I will drink quietly all day and cook and stress and it'll be fine. The day after that ... will happen. And then the rest of my life. There's champagne in the fridge; we're keeping at least one bottle of that for Monday. Whatever happens. I love my wife, and I'm taking nothing for granted.
*and sometimes I suspect that very nervousness of being a device, to distract my attention from the work I should seriously have been doing and haven't much. Chaz is apparently fractal: under every anxiety lies another, one layer deeper and otherwise alike.