Clearing the Decks

We overly enthusiastic imbibers tend to be masters of procrastination. Never do something today that can be put off until tomorrow.

This is partly because drinking (and the after effects of) takes up so much time, but it's also because we get so used to medicating away any inconvenient feelings - like anger, fear and boredom - that we start to avoid any inconvenient tasks as well.

I keep a running list on iPhone notes of things I have to do. It gets longer and shorter, but never entirely goes away. And I've realised that the problem with it is the number of really old tasks that I've become adept at ignoring.

Some of these I avoid because they are really hard. They'll take a long time (like the tax return), or a lot of courage (like sending the book to agents). But some are tiny little easy peasy ones that I've just taken an irrational dislike to.

The problem with all these ancient items clogging up the to do list is that they start to fester, to go toxic. It's like when a toddler drops a half eaten egg sandwich between the back seats of the car. After a while everything starts to smell.

You see, procrastination isn't just the thief of time - it's the stealer of serenity. Those tough jobs that you never get around to tackling are the ones that keep you awake in the small hours of the night, jeering at you.

So I have a new system. I used to make myself tackle at least three things on the list every day. But, obviously, I'd always do the easy ones.

Now I still do three a day, but one of them has to be a tricky bugger. Something from the dusty, cobwebby section of the list.

So slowly, slowly, one day at a time, just like quitting the booze, I'm clearing away all the toxic waste.

Which is why I found myself yesterday having a smear test (pap smear to you Americans).

That one had been on the list for nearly a whole year.

I hate smear tests. They're so undignified.  There you are, naked from the waist down, legs akimbo while the nurse - rootling around down there - starts making polite conversation about the weather (so British).

Plus, I'm aware that most men and women under the age of thirty five are totally unfamiliar with the concept of female pubic hair which they wax and bully into extinction.

I'm always terrified that the nurse will take one look at my neatly trimmed lady garden and run screaming from the examination room in horror.

But now it's done. All over. Expunged from the list. And it's like another little weight being removed from the shoulders.

If you've only just quit then don't worry about The List. Just wallow in a box set and eat cake. You're doing enough. But if you're out the other side then start clearing the decks. It's awesome.

Love SM x