It is undoubtedly true that I am a master of the art of procrastination when it comes to certain things of the life-administration variety.
Filing my paperwork is one of them. I hate doing it, and so it piles up and up on all available surfaces, and I kid myself that piling it up is a form of ordering it, so it kinda counts. I have a mammoth pile of it to do this weekend, and I really have to not put it off any longer.
DP and I also play the game of "Bathroom Cleaning Chicken". Anyone who has ever shared a house with a bloke knows that we never win. DP would say that I have the annoying bathroom habits, like leaving my make-up on the side of the sink in the morning, and forgetting, when I have used up the loo roll, to replace it. But we know that man-bathroom-habits top ours in the gross stakes. DP is nearly 34 years old, and he still can't aim that thing right. And don't get me started on the not cleaning the sink post-shaving.
Other favourite targets for procrastination in our house are, predictably, the ironing pile, descaling the kettle, and defrosting the fridge. It's meant to stay cold, isn't it? Surely turning it off is anathema to it's natural function?? And let's not mention the subject of the allotment plot we rented, started out enthusiastically earlier in the year, and then let it get overrun with weeds....it's amazing that we have had anything from it really, but at least we've managed to grow a few potatoes among the nettles.
This weekend is a bank holiday weekend and largely needs to be spent confronting our procrastinations head on, and actually doing some of these less palatable tasks that we have put off the last few weeks in favour of doing more fun stuff. The allotment needs digging over ready for the winter, we need to go up to the riding stables and bag up a load of horse manure ready for digging into the soil so we might have something plantable next year. Not sure I'll get round to descaling the kettle, but the game of Bathroom Chicken does need to be decided at some point this weekend too. Maybe we could do "Paper, Rock, Scissors".
By far the thing I am looking forward to the least, however, is addressing the state of my car. I realised today when I got in it at the end of the day that it does actually smell like stinky feet, which is distinctly unappealing. And then there's the collection of parking meter tickets fading and curling on the dashboard, the boot that's covered in streaks of mud and chain oil from when I've thrown my bike in there. My windscreen is covered in a layer of grease on the INSIDE, now that's disturbing! So this weekend, I need to wash and clean my car.
I don't know quite why I am so averse to doing it, or why the task of cleaning my car makes me cross. I guess I just see it as a chronic waste of time, and that I could be doing much better things - I've always figured, if my car works mechanically, then it doesn't matter if I haven't cleaned it for months, right? It still does what it says on the tin, and the birds have to have somewhere to shit. But, when even YOU don't like getting in your own car, it's time to bite the bullet and get out the Auto-Glym.
I think it's because the idea of actually planning to use my precious leisure time to clean my car, instead of going out until 3am and sleeping til 3pm and having a vodka for breakfast, makes me realise the uncomfortable fact that I am officially No Longer Young. All those people I used to laugh at as I staggered home from the pub at 8am on a Sunday morning as they carried buckets of soapy water out into their driveways - oh my God, I am now you. On Sunday morning, or whenever I get up and schlep out to do the deed, I will stand there with my buckets and probably watch some panda-eyed students wobble home while shaking my un-hungover head and tutting. I.Am.So.Freaking.Old.
Ah well...maybe SD will be up for making some pocket money on Sunday and I won't have to clean the car after all. Stepkids have to be useful for something, and she will probably be more preoccupied with the smell of money than the smell of feet.