The blessing and the curse of procrastination

It's going to sound like rationalization and self-jusirficartion but as I muzzy along I find there is something to be said for procrastinating,on many levels and applied to different activities. In My Other LIfe, in the days before Perma Press, I used to look at the basket piled high with clean but wrinkled clothes and worry less about mildew than the fear that by the time I got around to ironing them, they wouldn't fit anyone I knew. The first grant I ever received to encourage me with my writing was from my husband: a Wylie Grant for Ironing. I used the money to pay someone to iron the clothes so I could use the time more creatively.  

It didn't work with mending, though.

Now with coupons. I intend to clip coupons for discounts and freebies  but I'm so happy when the expiry date arrives and I don't have to feel guilty about not using them. Some people feel that way about leftovers.  They push food into the equivalent of a petrie dish at the back of the fridge and wait for the mould  to spread so they are justified in throwing out the contents. I don't/can't do that.  My first cookbook was about leftovers (Encore, The Leftovers Cookbook)

I think it's the feeling of relief that procrastination brings that makes it so appealing.  Time is on your side.  Wait long enough and nothing happens. What a relief.