Last minute me

It's a pattern.
When I run my brain backwards and think about all the medium to large to extra large things I've done, that's a common part of the symphony... wait until the last possible minute, then do it.

Whatever 'it' is.

22 years ago, I took a Tuesday evening creative writing class through the local community college. I had a seven year old boy and a one year old girl.

And I'd put off the weekly writing assignment until Tuesday afternoon, usually really getting into the groove about the time the baby was climbing up my leg and wanting to nurse.

Every Tuesday evening when we shared our work with our class, people seemed to enjoy what I had written. I received some sincere compliments and some very well phrased constructive criticism. I don't know how well the criticism worked, although I tried to take it and use it to my advantage to improve the words.

I did some really good writing back then, but I've since learned that the real writing occurs in my head. Depending on how serious the thing I'm writing is, I can sometimes do the pre-writing for days or even weeks. So by the time I sat down on Tuesday afternoons in front of our ancient computer with the dot matrix printer, what I wanted to say was already there. I just had to let it out.

It was like that with the email I sent to the big fish. I had most of it figured out in my brain before I sat down to write it. It just flowed from my fingertips. If you'd been watching, it would have appeared completely effortless, but I assure you there was tremendous effort involved.

However, sometimes it seems like the effort I put forth is inversely proportionate to the seriousness of the circumstances.

For example the housework.

I have company coming. My parents will be here on July 31st. I have to get things cleaned up around here. I've been working on it. I've said to myself, 'self, you have plenty of time it's only (fill in day of your choice) and you don't have to hurry.'

Only now it's becoming urgent.
I've been doing something every day.
Things are starting to find a home.

Sometimes I think I should have taken a set of before pictures.. but I don't want to look at them. :)

But with surgery coming up, it has to get done. Because I'm not going to feel like messing around with it afterward.

Remember when you were a kid and summer vacation had just started? I do. It felt like the whole universe was laid out in front of me... endless time to just read and sleep and be.

I've been watching the calendar with increasing dread this summer... here we are, nearly halfway through July. School has been out almost a whole month.

I do a little freakout when I think about the upcoming recovery period, but you know, I had the failed ACL replacement on July 6th and was able to make it to work on the first day of school that fall. I was using a cane and still wearing a brace that encased my leg from thigh to ankle, but I was walking.

This is a much easier surgery. The first 48 hours or so after a scope surgery is excruciatingly painful. There are no words. You have to do it to get an idea of how it feels. Not that I'm recommending it.

But after that, the pain lessens a great deal and by 4 weeks out, it's barely noticeable. At least that's with knees. Not sure about ankles, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

I got up about an hour ago because I decided to have acid churn up out of my tummy and into my throat. Yum. Now I've eaten about six pieces of celery, a handful of saltines and taken a heartburn pill. My feet are cold and I'm sleepy and I managed to sit here and read a little in the book I'm currently working on, catch up with Facebook stuff, send myself a couple reminder emails and write this post.

Matt will be here tomorrow morning to help me haul more crap out the door. That's a good thing. That whole urgency thing...

Okay, zipping off to bed. Again. Where I will NOT have heartburn.