The very bad habit, procrastination, roared in my ear. “Don’t do it now. You’re too tired. You want to watch TV. Have you checked your e-mail? Eddie McPuppers wants to walk.”
“Be still. Be gone, you b.s.ing big mouth,” I tried to say, but the words caught in my throat.
OMG! Sore throat? That’s a symptom. I felt my forehead, which seemed normal. The household thermometer died years ago and I didn’t think the roasting thermometer would work.
Corona Virus is even louder than the evil Ms. Procrastination and in retaliation for her taunts I find myself sitting at the computer, writing and editing day after day, as if I still need to prove that I am entitled to a place on the planet because I am a productive human being instead of an out-to-pasture senior who might take up hospital space.
So it’s procrastination versus productivity in the third round, and as you’ve noticed by now, I, the owner of these bad habits, have a tendency to obsess and catastrophize.
Maybe I should start an online Bad Habits Store while we’re all socially distancing ourselves. People could list their habits and either sell or trade them. But who would pay to purchase someone else’s bad habits? There are certain villains on Criminal Minds who might be candidates along with those who are so strung out on drugs and alcohol that they have lost all touch with reality.
When bad habits threaten to take over, the non-catastrophizing part of me slips into gratitude. I have had an interesting life and at the ripe old age of 71 I have a husband, a dog, a book contract, clients, and the ability to scrub the grease off the counters after my husband finishes cooking. Soon we will go to take-out, but right now every day brings new challenges, and I am grateful that I’m here to experience all of them.