Hello and welcome to Foibles Monday!

Errr, what?

Oh, damn, not again. It’s Wednesday already . . . ?  ~sigh~

Okay. Let’s start over . . .


Hiii!!! I’m Miki. I’ll be your Procrastinatrix for today!

Yup, that’s a foible I share with too many of you. Am I right? Shhhh . . . I won’t tell. We can blithely pretend its Monday, just for now.

I’ve always wanted to do something blithely. ~blithes stoically. blithes menacingly. blithely giggles. blithes in French~

Hey, this is fun!! Oh, sorry . . . where was I?

So this is what it’s like to be a procrastinatrix. Basically doing anything BUT what you’re supposed to be doing (for those of us pretending not to be afflicted by random moments of blithe-abuse). It’s technically a form of A.D.D., but even better.

In fact it’s not a disorder at all! ~blithely chops off the last “D.” and adds an “A.” for Awesomeness!~ 

It’s just the way some of us are wired . . . that some others of the rest of us can’t fathom to save their armpit hairs.

2015.03.21 035Basically, according to John Perry, Stanford Philosopher and author of The Art of Procrastination (yes, this really is a real book), procrastinators are, paradoxically, rather prolific do-ers . .  as long as they’re doing some thing to avoid doing something else they don’t want to do more.

Oops. I think I just heard some non-procrastinators’ brains go *poink!* Meanwhile, we procrastinators are all nodding our heads in unison right now. Some are even doing it blithely! ~gives those ones a thumbs up~

Perry calls this structured procrastination. It’s a pretty awesome way of embracing our inner procrastinatrix and using it to be far more productive than those sadly “normal” people out there, who couldn’t blithe to negotiate the safe return of their armpit hairs.

Perry goes on to describe such awesomeness as horizontal organization, task triage, and right-parenthesis deficit disorder. I guarantee these things will remove that icky stigma of being a procrastinator (or procrastnatrix) forever, or until you get around to thinking about it.

It’s an awesome little book. I recommend my fellow procrastinatrixii get a copy and read it . . . but only after you write a lovely three-page comment below about how awesome I am for introducing you to it.

See what I did there? You’ll want to read the book instead now!

You’re welcome.

I read this really awesome book with a mouse on the cover. I mean it wasn’t a real mouse sitting on the cover, because then I would have run away instead. Anyway, I read the thing (the book, not the mouse) and kinda fell for the author; so I Googled and found her here on WordPress and I thought I’d follow her, which now kinda makes it sound like I’m flirting with some kind of restraining order or something, which is making me nervous, when all I really did was leave this comment on her book–because the mouse really did an awesome job–and I’m not really sure now why she’d want to get a restraining order . . .  but, uhm, you can read the comment while I go get in touch with my lawyer just in case . . .

Your comment is awaiting moderation. (Is this where they stall to call the cops? I’m not sure . . .)

I was just forced to read this book in a college writing class. My advice to you? Think twice before buying this book. Really. Unless you’re totally okay with completely embarrassing yourself laughing until you cry in public. Yes, I did this and it was not pretty. Don’t do it. Also, it’s dangerous: especially if you happen to be eating while you’re reading it … you’d be surprised by the sheer bulk of things you can shoot out of your nose while reading this book: milk, spaghetti, cough drops (yes, plural), small animals you didn’t know you were eating, … really, it’s too risky. Just don’t. One time I was caught laughing, like the I-can’t-stop-laughing type of laughing, in a lobby area I wasn’t supposed to be in anyway, when the security people arrived to investigate. They radioed for a straightjacket with a mere mention of a five-foot metal chicken. My escape was vicariously nothing like what you see in the movies. I don’t want to talk about it. All because of this book. You have been warned. I mean, it’s a chicken named Beyonce … there has to be something illegal here. I’m just saying.

So my lawyer says I really need to stop calling him because in fact I don’t really have a lawyer, and to stop watching movies where everyone has lawyers they can call and why am I all worried about this anyway. He did suggest I talk to a psychiatrist, but I don’t really have faith in ESP when it comes to legal matters, so I kind of ignored that part. I’ll call him again later when he’s in a better mood.