Wednesday, November 24, 2004

Procrastination - the thief of time

No, not the Discworld book, but rather my bad habits. Again. Some days ago (okay, maybe a week or two) I prepared a couple of oak blanks to make Crimbo presents from. I haven't made any further progress since then at all. Not so much as drilling a hole for the screw chuck. They're sitting there in the workshop now, a wordless reproach. A sensible person would get a move on, pull their finger out and silence their nagging conscience by making with the shavings. Not me. There I am feeling guilty every time I see them, so instead of doing something about it I just stop going into the workshop... Surely there's some kind of treatment you can get for this?! What's worse is I don't even get anything else done from my enormously long "To do" list, because I feel bad if I do something that's not as urgent as said presents. What with that and the review writing from hell, which is going about as well as a performance of Hamlet to an audience of Danish royalty with depression, I'm not a happy bunny.

Still, on the plus side I may well have finally sold on my spare mortise chisels. Huzzah! It's only taken a year and a half. Oh, and I managed to totally destroy a near sale on a plane when I came down with a nasty attack of honesty. Yep, mother dear, a career in selling old tools really must be my forte...

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