Procrastination Disguised as Productivity (with a Side of Derp)
As I slowly awakened from last night’s restless fit of tossing and turning—well, as much as one can toss and turn in a recliner throne—I tried to recall my dreams. They were just as unsettled as I was: drifting from one fantasy realm to another, never quite landing on a single storyline.
I opened my eyes and quietly asked myself, “What kind of day will this be?” My mind flipped through two lists: the things I should do and the things I have to do. Naturally, the “have to” list was much shorter than the “should” list.
As I contemplated the fine art of procrastination in favor of a lazy Sunday, I became so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t see Freya’s ambush coming. In true dramatic fashion, she leapt on me like a hyena pouncing on prey for the final blow. Except instead of ripping out my throat, she plopped on me in a fit of excitement—crushing my windpipe while showering me with kisses that drowned out both my restless dreams and my to-do lists.
Odin, not far behind her but ever the gentleman, rested his head on my armrest and gazed up at me with those big emo eyes until I gave him the under-chin scratches he was begging for. He cocked his head sideways, politely directing my hand to the right spot. Little prince indeed, I thought.
Freya, unable to control her wiggles—and absolutely offended that someone else was receiving attention during her time—groaned and whined like the diva she is. With that, I determined it was coffee time. I sternly told her to get down, ensuring I didn’t reward her for bad behavior, no matter how adorable she was being.
It was time to get up and make that blissful coffee. The machine came alive with a hum, followed by the sweet sound of espresso brewing. Once the frothed milk swirled into the espresso, it was time to inhale—deeply—the sweet aroma of sanity. Once I was fully satisfied with my morning caffeinated high, I took the dogs outside.
The collars had arrived—the ones sitting at my parents’ house that my Mooms kindly shipped to me—and neither dog was impressed to have them back. Freya snorted her disappointment at the realization she could no longer drag Mommy across the campground without significant discomfort to herself. I swear I could see her dreams of gleefully towing me like a sled dog vanish from her eyes, replaced with pure indignation.
Odin, on the other hand, seemed offended—as if I had deeply wronged him. He barely ever pulls, after all, and his sad, betrayed eyes nearly broke me. Maybe I’ll let him go without the collar… we’ll see. He really is a good boy.
Once the dogs were walked and fed, we snuggled in for some much-needed morning fuck-off time and logged into World of Warcraft with my Canadian buddy. We killed time in Azeroth while waiting for the rest of our gaming family to join so we could dive into 7 Days to Die (they never joined).
Eventually, responsibility caught up with me and I decided it was time to finally fix the water leak. The funny part? It literally took me five minutes—it was way easier than I imagined. Looking back, I probably spent more time turning the water on and off than actually fixing it. Why am I like this? I thought, shaking my head at myself.
After playing WoW for a bit longer, my friend declared it was time for his “old man nap,” which was my cue to continue adulting. I took the dogs for a quick truck ride to the hardware store and a short walk, then came home to load the dishwasher and pretend I was going to do laundry.
Of course, I managed to buy the wrong size bolt I needed—because I left the actual bolt sitting on the counter at home. At the store, I just winged it by memory. When I got back and compared, the bolt wasn’t even close to the right size. As one of my friends would say: “derp der derp.”
As I reclined in my chair writing this blog—and definitely putting off my should-do’s—I pondered taking an old-lady nap myself. But then I thought better of it. If I napped now, I’d wake up too early and ruin tomorrow. Push through, I told myself. Find something to do. Don’t procrastinate.
So I stood up, determined to take action. And no sooner had I gotten to my feet than I walked straight back to the bedroom, called the dogs to come lay with me, and climbed under the covers. Adulting at its finest, I thought and justified it with my lupus flare, I do need to rest and take care of myself.
There I lay, text messaging my Mooma and a friend, and scrolling through TikTok reels—until I drifted off to sleep.
Lessons of the Day
Recliner gymnastics don’t count as rest, no matter how many flips you attempt.
Morning alarm sponsored by slobber and wiggles.
Emo dog eyes have 100% success rate in manipulating humans.
Coffee isn’t just a drink—it’s liquid sanity in a mug.
Collars ruin a diva’s dream of becoming a sled dog.
Water leaks are never as hard to fix as the mental build-up.
Hardware store roulette: always bet on the wrong size.
Dishwasher loaded = adulting achieved (laundry optional).
Saying “don’t procrastinate” while crawling back into bed is peak comedy.
TikTok naps: where procrastination and therapy collide.
