The calendar has proclaimed this day as the first day of spring. And we all know that the calendar never lies!
First we have spring fever and then lazy days of summer. One begets the other. Spring fever means we run around in circles. Planting flowers. Cleaning closets and cabinets. Dragging out the summer clothes and putting away the sweaters and coats. When it’s finished we’re dog tired and ready to do nothing but be lazy during the hot days of summer.
Just before spring fever attacks, there is a week dedicated to procrastination. It’s that time of year when it’s cold and rainy one day, sunny and warm the next, then back to snow flurries and threats of ice storms. Everyone knows that it takes at least two warm days in a row to infect folks with spring fever, so the powers-that-be dubbed a whole week in March official Procrastination Week. Because everyone also knows that March can never make up its mind what to produce, so it’s a perfect time for dyed-in-the-wool procrastinators to have their moment of glory.
Those who belong to the Ancient Order of Slow Moving Turtles (the Procrastinator’s Society) have come out of their shrouded, veiled meetings to share with the rest of us their canonical creed. They only have a meeting once a year. If they proved they could plan even two meetings a year, they’d lose their official fez with a picture of a slow moving turtle emblazoned right beneath the tassel.
Long ago Mr. B’s father was crowned the King of Procrastination and given the official AOOSMT royal blue fez. Since he had three sons, they each hold the title of Prince of Procrastination (POP for short) and they wear a crimson fez. I’m not sure they will ever be in the same class as their father and earn their royal blue fez. If Mr. B does, he may find his fez in the dumpster with all that stuff I cleaned out of the refrigerator. I may even rake all the stuff that resembles guacamole into the fez before I toss it in the dumpster.
During Procrastination Week, it is a virtual sin to do anything other than breathing, eating and sleeping, and waiting. It is the week to do nothing but wait: the true procrastinator’s favorite four letter word. It is not to be confused with patience. Patience can produce results. Procrastination can not. They will not be nagged into doing something productive. They are only permitted to dust off their fez every morning and w-a-i-t.
We are very familiar with the canonical creed. We can recite most of it by rote. The creed goes something like this:
I believe that if anything is worth doing, it would have already been done.
I shall never move quickly, except to avoid more work or find excuses.
I will never rush into a job without a lifetime of consideration.
I firmly believe that tomorrow holds the possibility for new technologies, astounding discoveries, and a reprieve from my obligations.
I obey the law of excuses which says that the greater the task to be done, the more insignificant the work that must be done prior to beginning the greater task.
I know the work cycle is not plan/start/finish, but is wait/yawn/wait.
I will never put off until tomorrow, what I can forget about forever.
Spring fever follows right on the heels of Procrastination Week. That’s to keep us wives who are married to members of the ancient AOOSMT out of divorce courts. Spring fever finally bites them. They hang up their fezzes, sigh and get on with the honey-do jobs. I for one am almighty glad to see spring arrive. It’s time to clean the ‘fridge and that fez could hold a lot of garbage.