Amateurs just put things off. It's obvious to all concerned.
It takes a real pro to create the appearance of necessary activity and solid progress while doing nothing worthwhile.
Thousands of books, tapes, planners and speakers collect millions of dollars in pursuit of the science of time management, yet the art of procrastination has nary an informercial.
There is no option of false modesty here. I am one of the best. Piles move, paper shuffles, and the keyboard is pounded to submission with email response and creation. The person who asks what I did today is exhausted before I get half way through my answer.
All the nieces and nephews are covered up with Valentines' cards and checks addressed, stamped and ready to mail, as well as a half dozen particularly well-selected adult cards sure to bring a smile. February birthday cards are complete, as are the month's bills. My husband has all the tax material requested. All laundry (including hand washables, thank you) is dry and put away.
It took a half an hour to straighten that mess with the cable increase, but they'll think twice before messing with me again.
There is no way to possibly value the quality time invested in going to lunch with my younger daughter. What kind of mother would I be with I didn't call my older daughter suffering through a bitterly cold winter at college and about the toughest 18-hour schedule possible?
The thank you notes went out this morning for that wonderful surprise gift last night. Friends of that quality should expect no less.
The word count on the current chapter is more or less pretty close to exactly where it was yesterday. But tommorrow it's going to rip.
I could produce that infomercial and likely make millions.
When I get around to it.