June 5, 2008
"Only Robinson Crusoe had everything done by Friday," --Author Unknown.
As I age, I am acutely aware that procrastinating simply takes too much effort and energy any more.
It used to be easier to put things off. Now, procrastinating is too difficult. It wears me out.
Still, I continue to "push the envelope."
Without a personal assistant like Crusoe's Friday, I should adopt a new philosophy of life to combat procrastination, or not.
You know the premise: tackle a task the minute it surfaces, and it will save hours of work later. Old adages warn "there is no time like the present" or "strike while the iron is hot".
The only problem is that I still love the thrill of the last minute rush to the finish line. You, too?
What is it about putting projects off until Friday or the weekend or waiting until the last possible moment? We all do it.
My theory is that procrastinating is more than just avoiding chores. Perhaps, we enjoy living on the edge because it feels deliciously like an elixir. We crave the rush of nearly crashing and burning but being saved in the end.
Are we are hoping The Fonz will save the day at the last possible second like he did on many a "Happy Days" sitcom episode? Perhaps, we are certain some providential situation will save us since it happens in the movies all the time.
So, we put off buying airline tickets hoping the price will get better; when in fact, it costs more by waiting. We shop madly on Christmas Eve because we say we love the spirit and excitement of last-minute gift buying only to find the stock "picked over" and no selection left.
"Pushing the envelope", defined as high-risk procrastination, reminds me of a story about an old man and a Midwest flood.
Have you heard it? Maybe not since I tweaked it a bit.
An old man waited for help on his rooftop surrounded by a flooding river. He asked his God for help and felt assured that assistance would come his way.
Soon, rescuers arrived in a small boat, but the man refused to join them. He explained that God would save him.
His situation worsened. Another rescue boat came and then another. Each time, the old man said no, God would save him and told the rescuers to go away.
He was expecting drama, the spectacle of miraculous intervention.
Sadly, the man drowned as you might guess by now. The story continues that the stubborn old codger went straight to heaven where he wasted no time confronting his maker.
"Why didn't you save me," the man demanded of God. "I believed you would."
"I tried three times," God said, "But you would not come. What were you waiting on, Friday?"
