Walking The Dog

I procrastinate ALL THE TIME. Well, not right now obviously ... but for much of the time my head is stuck somewhere between the latest pile of laundry, a dahlia that needs potting on, four legged friends that need to be fed/walked/loved and the many things that I really need to do, that I want to do and that I should put on a list. Most days I remember the non-existence of said list in the evening, when there is dinner to cook and no time left in the day to embark on finding a new me; a me that makes lists. I do, however ... sometimes ... write a hello-morning-this-is-going-to-be-a-super-organised-day list. And the outcome, on those list days is either head-on-the-desk despair at how little I managed to tick off, or the miracle of a vaguely successful day. Vaguely , as my gauge for 'successful' is achieving slightly more than fifty percent on the tick list. And therein lies the problem - I procrastinate and thus greater than fifty percent becomes impossible. Even fifty percent