When something needs to be done, it’s an instant signal to resent having to do it, at least for me. It’s a nasty habit, this resentment. It’s part of that procrastinosaur that lurks in the bushes right next to the trail we travel, waiting to snap up the bits of our lives we let slip through our fingers.
I don’t like being told what to do, especially when the one doing the telling is the impersonal, inexorable, natural flow of events.
So what? As much as I dislike beginning to do the needful thing sometimes, I like the view of what needed to be done and is now finished receding in my rear view mirror.
It’s all a question of perspective… and for me, a matter of survival. Because if I let myself, I’m pretty sure I could sit on my butt looking at silly things on the internet until I perished of thirst. Because LOLcats and stuff.