Or any day other than Monday. Which is why, if you are a life long procrastinator as I am, you rely heavily on the systematic labeling system developed by law school friends for the days leading up to the day on which you really plan to get started, the days officially reserved for "administrative matters." Small Roman numerals are not just for the opening pages of a book; I am now officially into Day iii of "administrative matters," the period of time during which I will mull over and obsess about and even scribble long to-do lists about the insurmountable packing job I will absolutely begin in a few days -- on Monday, Day 1.
Progress tends to be subtle on Roman numeral days, and only the well trained eye can recognize the fruits of hours of elbow grease and mental toil and metaphysical labor. Even I sometimes get discouraged by the lack of hard evidence, which is why, early on Day i, I unfolded and set up a bunch of empty boxes and positioned them randomly throughout the house. The illusion of chaos gives me a solid sense of accomplishment. On Day ii, I went hog wild with the sticky notes and a tape measure. Furniture has been color coded; I will know, for example, on moving day, that my bed and two nightstands and my dresser will move into the master bedroom of my new house. I will know, as well, that the armoire will have to go somewhere else. That's what it says on the powder blue sticky note: somewhere else. Don't rush me; it was only Day ii.
The still embryonic Day iii has already been extremely productive. The folks in my local Starbucks have been hoarding boxes for me, and had a nice stack waiting for me this morning. I have already distributed them into various rooms, enhancing the chaos I started on Day i. I made good use of the time spent peering into the basement to check for flooding, composing mental notes of all the furniture I have accumulated over the years that I might try to sell for a few pennies. If time permits, I might even transcribe those mental notes onto a piece of paper, although I am reluctant to over exert myself this early in the "administrative matters" process. Not counting today, there are still three Roman numeral days left before Monday, and I don't want to peak too soon.
Day 1 looms large, but I will be ready. I will be well rested (frequent naps are built into the administrative schedule) and, because the upcoming Day 1 Monday also happens to be the first day of the month of July, even a seasoned procrastinator like myself will be hard pressed to not hit the ground running. Moving day is at the end of July; there are precious few Day 1's remaining, and the luxury of knowing I am moving "next month" will have officially evaporated. If I know what's good for me, I will take the upcoming Day 1 very seriously. Oh, dear, that's a big if.
The great intellectuals with whom I share the Starbucks couches in the morning were deep into a high minded debate when I arrived this morning, about when it is too soon to joke about certain things. I offered up my unsolicited opinion, suggesting it is never too early, even if the topic is death or disease. "How about divorce?" they challenged. Ooh. I don't know. Death and disease are laughing
matters, but divorce, that's serious stuff.
They noticed the boxes I was holding, and asked how the packing was going. Now that is definitely not funny. I took a deep breath and marched out. Day iii awaits.
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