Procrastination

She enters through the side door and makes her way to a couch against the wall. She sits, pulls out her laptop and begins to work on her paper. “But no no, this is not comfortable, in order for me to properly work on this I need a better seat,” she thinks. So she gathers her things and arises and moves to a cushy comfy olive colored loveseat. She reaches out and pulls the coffee table placed in front of her closer to herself, mildly disturbing someone whose coffee was already resting on the table. In her quest to find the perfect place to produce her paper she is unaware of her disturbance of others.

After she appears to be situated, she looks to her right and discovers a spot open at a table, so she collects her belongings yet again and moves to this table. “Ahh, this table is much more conducive to working on a paper,” so she believes. For the third time she sets up her things, opens her lap top and begins to type . . . a few moments pass and she is still not comfortable. She spots another table four feet away. One she can claim all her own, for the current table is inhabited by one not her self. Finally she has found her table, the table that will assist in her completion of this horrid paper. Now she can get to work, now she can get down to the task at hand; it’s only taken trying out four different spots and the elapsing of over forty-five minutes.

Well, now that she is situated, she needs to check facebook, her email, and twitter. Once she has checked these and her mind is at ease, then she can begin.  Twenty minutes pass and she is finally done checking her connections to the world. “Oh no, now the lavatory needs to be visited . . (insert bathroom trip) . . okay bladder empty, no more distractions,” she insists to herself. She perches back in her chair, computer screen patiently awaiting her fingers to provide input. “Okay, okay, I’ve got this. Here I go” motivating herself. A vibration is felt in her pocket. Another distraction is attempting to make voice contact . . . and it would be rude for her to ignore it.

Fifteen minutes later she sits back down, looks at her watch and thinks, “wow I’ve already gotten an hour’s worth of work done.”

Author: Brandon Fischer

University of Texas graduate and beer lover.

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