We’re having some people over tonight for a big dinner, and it has actually motivated me to clean up around here. Or at least, it has motivated me to give the place an “appearance of clean”… meaning: don’t move the magazine pile under the coffee table because it is strategically placed to hide the dust and graham cracker crumbs underneath it.
We only have 6 days left before we close on the new house.
Have I started packing, you ask?
Have I started thinking about packing?
Not even a little.
Am I stressed about not thinking about packing, you wonder?
Not at all!
Knowing me, however, I’ll instantly morph into a basket-case after I sign the contract and they hand me the keys to the new house. I’ll be running around like a chicken with my head cut-off, throwing piles of clothes and dishes into my car and making 56 trips a day until all our stuff has been moved. I’m really, very goal-oriented and goal-motivated… But not until the goal is inches away from my face. This is how I was in school, as well. I’d have months to do a paper, but I wouldn’t start it until the night before it was due. I’m what you might call a “procrastinator”. A “dilly-dally”. A “dawdler”. A “lazy bum”. Unless of course, we’re talking about packing my bag for the hospital when I was pregnant with Ezra. My bag was all packed and ready to go when I was about 3 months pregnant. You know… “just in case”.