Relative Something

And suddenly it was my turn to write something that meant something to someone; someone I might not even know who was reading at the time. But what time is that? Right after I write it, or later, even years on down the line? Day after day I lumber after inspiration that will fuel anticipation that fuels acceleration toward some product for presentation to someone I might not even know. The prose that time produces comes with intermittent spruces of ticky tacky spices, frosting each and every reason, some for not my even doing it. The lyrical and the nonsensical mix in intangible and intelligible ways that behoove at least attention toward a morsel of intention for a purpose couched in a greater good. There is laughter which may come later, but the importance of now seems even greater, and it’s hard to really know that the reason may not show even though it’s laid out there plain as day for all to see…

It has been a quiet week in my world, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been a lot of activity. I’ve been quite the social butterfly, with something going on each day this entire weekend. The one thing I’ve intended to accomplish continues to get pushed forward, leaving this afternoon a primary target. On my mind is the fact that Cyndie and I have again gone many days without successfully making connection, but I think I’m growing accustomed to it, so I definitely fret less when this happens. I am supposed to be removing all the things hanging on the walls in our home in preparation for restorations needed to properly show the house. In some ways, it appears easy enough to do, but I’m guessing a somewhat more subtle reason contributes to my repeated delays.

What can I say? I’m a much-rehearsed procrastinator. What is it that appeals to me so much in delay? I wonder if it is more, that (the delay), than the simple avoidance of ultimate tasks. I’ll let you know, if I get around to it, and if I somehow discern an answer of any particular clarity.

What do you think the chances are of that?