Procrastination Party

fiction

This weekend, you completed the highest level on your favourite augmented reality game, Procrastination Party. Starting at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning, you stumbled down, the steep staircase that descends straight into the kitchen, one eye open, the other trying desperately to go back to bed.

You checked the level of water in the kettle and flicked on the switch. You stood, impatiently waiting, for the sound of a thousand tiny bubbles simultaneously reach their boiling point, day dreaming about the warmth of that first wonderful sip of tea.

Steaming mug in hand, you unlocked the back door, opening it just so, that enough cut-your-throat-cold-air got through to cut through the smoke from your hand rolled cigarette. Sitting on the bottom step of the mountainous staircase, blowing out clouds of smoke in between sips of tea, you planned out your day.

You had good intentions. You longed for the fulfilling feeling of achieving productivity, on a day specifically assigned to be productive, but first, you thought, I must visit my good F.R.I.E.N.D.S, Monica, Rachael, Phoebe, Chandler, Joey and Ross. One hour, maybe two tops and then you would to get to that list of things that you should have been doing, a week or three ago.

One hour merged into two hours, episodes turned into a whole season, Ross and Rachael got together and broke up and got back together again and broke up again, and day turned into night. You didn’t sleep well that night with the disappointment in yourself crawling under your skin, just below the surface.

Sunday morning, when you were propositioned a Christmas shopping day out, as much as you hate shopping, especially during the holidays, you reluctantly agreed. You love Christmas, you like getting ready for Christmas and wrapping presents and all that comes with it, but your idea of hell, looks a lot like aimlessly wondering in and out of shops, for hours on end, compulsorily sharing your personal space with hundreds of people and their pet germs.

However, knowing that Christmas is fast approaching and that you are rapidly running out of time, you went. It was an unsuccessful first attempt as any time that you tried to put yourself through the emotional torture that shopping is to you, and something caught your eye, all you could think was, do you know who would like this for Christmas? Me.

Three new nail varnishes and a couple of stocking fillers for your bother later, you gave up. Fuck it, you still have plenty of time, and speaking of time, it started to feel a lot like time for Chinese food and F.R.I.E.N.D.S re runs and hopes for a more productive week.


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