I've been doing some serious procratination the past week and a half. My laundry is piling up, clean and dirty piles. I haven't made the beds or changed the sheets. The bath tubs need a good scrub down. The "den" is a mess (I use quotations because it looks more like the garage it originally was,) and the grout on the floors needs a major overhaul.
I look at all of these things and make lists and plans and get started and then remember four things: 1) I have Lupus, 2) I have Fibromyalgia 3) I hate housework of any kind 4) I'm much better at procrastinating than I am at cleaning.
My housekeeping skills are famous far and wide. I'm the FlyLady's worst nightmare. I can't even bring myself to read the book! I've read the first three pages at least five times and each time, the procrastination monster lurking in my brain takes over and I decide to read the rest "later". Later, by definition, never arrives.
Today, though, I'm going to force Later to be my bi-otch. Maybe. We'll see about it after I finish checking Facebook.
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