The assuring hum of the refrigerator, the remote at my side like a taser, the fluid depth of the wood floors staring back at me, independent films, cup of coffee, whimsical kitchen disarray...
Yes folks, it's Sunday afternoon alone at the house.
I love these days. I sink deep into my corner of the L-shaped couch and my dreams; multiple internet tabs awaiting exploration.
I don't want a phone call, a knock on the door, or an interruption of this steady flow of procrastination.
I think about all the things I should do like go for a run, clean up the office, correct papers, etc. Instead I sit and create without an accomplishment to speak of. I both hate and love these days. I know I have time yet I waste it. I almost feel afraid of accomplishment...there are all these things waiting and yet I don't face them.
The fact is, I find great comfort in these looming tasks...like there is always someone waiting for me when I get home. I don't know how to handle continuous mediocrity, I can only find satisfaction in low lows and drastic makeovers so everyone, including myself will be amazed at how much I was able to change the situation.
I envy people who can keep a steady flow of order and upkeep in their lives. The kinds of people who have a task, don't fear it, and face it head on. The kinds of people who get things DONE. I think I could be one of those people, but instead I hide behind a curtain of unobtainable perfection.
It looms and the fear becomes greater than the task at hand.