I am my own worst buzzkill

Have you ever woken up one morning and thought “this is the first day of the rest of my life”? You know, like a brand new chapter, a day when you’ll start doing things you are supposed to be doing, or live the way you want to live, and keep the changes in for good?

As cheesy as it sounds, that’s how I felt this morning. I promised myself I’d start getting ready for summer when I got back from San Francisco, so I did some planning yesterday. I’d eat lighter and cleaner, maybe start with Dr. Perricone’s 3-Day thing. And I would exercise, keep the momentum going from our day-long walks in San Francisco. Yes I would.

Also, I would unpack, do the laundry and do the basic daily house chores: lading the dishwasher, making the beds, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom. Yes I would. Definitely.

Only tricky bit: our late schedule while on the West Coast, coupled with the 3-hour time difference, made for a killer jetlag. We might has well have gone to Japan. So this morning, after getting Sarah ready and off to school, I decided to go back to bed. Just for an hour, I said to myself. I never do this, but hey, if I wanted to have the energy to exercise and do all that stuff in the house, I needed just a little more sleep. So at a quarter to eight I went back to bed, and shortly after Stella woke up and climbed into the big bed with me. We both fell asleep.

Next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and it was 11.04 am. So much for my exemplary day, so much for the first day of the rest of my life (are you sick of me saying that yet? ’cause it’s sounding really stupid to my own ears). Great start, really.

By the looks of it, I procrastinate even without wanting to. Is there such a thing as a systemic procrastinator? There should be. And when they start adding that to medical journals and manuals, my picture will be right beside it.