What Deadline?
Masochist, thy name is MomBrain. Here I am, 24 hours before a hard deadline that CANNOT MOVE, and am I writing? Heck no. I went to Ikea. Drank coffee. Emailed a friend. Fiddled with my sidebar. Debated brushing my teeth and drank more coffee instead. Weeded out all the dead pens and threw them away. Applied the latest miracle wrinkle cream around my eyes. And now I’m blogging.
To be fair to myself, I’ve done all the research. Taken copious notes. And written quite a bit. All that’s left is the last sprint to the finish, which is exactly the problem: the word FINISH. Because once I hit the send key, I can’t fool myself into thinking it’s just a draft, that I still have time to make it perfect. And that’s the other problem: the word PERFECT. I have to keep reminding myself that sometimes B+ is a really good grade. That what I call “imperfect” is what editors call “job security.” That it’s okay to be good enough.
Off to make more coffee and then — really — put this puppy to bed.
Go, MomBrain, go! From one procrastinator to another…
Yep. STILL working on the first third of my thesis because I keep re-reading it and changing things around, trying to make a freaking first draft PERFECT.
Why do we beat ourselves up like this?
Here’s to putting work to bed. *lifts glass*
Ooooh, I feel ya. Been there. But hey, you don’t REALLY need sleep, do you?