Monday, January 2, 2017

Still Procrastinating

It's been fewer than 48 hours since a conscious decision to return to dance classes and even fewer since seeing an email reminder that a group I used to dance with meets on Mondays at 3:15.

I was available on Monday and had every intention of attending. All the way up until I didn't.

The morning included exploring options for the day -- a drive to the beach to visit the ocean; shopping to use Kohl's cash earned on Christmas shopping; hunting for the six foot tall bookcase I decided last week that I need; putting the third coat of polyurethane on the floor in the kitchen nook (requiring a trip to buy more polyurethane); and of course, dance group.

If you know me very well you know I like the beach a lot, but not so much on the shopping, and usually overthink things until it's too late to do any of them. You can probably even guess what I did. 

Yup. It was my favorite multiple choice selection by default: None of the above.

After lunching on cheesy hot pepper ramen and disposing of the remnants in the sink, I flipped the switch for the disposal. There was a groaning sound and not much else. I peered into the hole in the sink and saw cheesy ramen noodles, a metal Christmas ornament hook, and the tiny face of Abraham Lincoln.

Lacking a handyperson in the inner circle of my life or even on the most remote periphery, it was obvious what needed to happen. 

A flashlight, rubber gloves, and utensils were located. Using a large spoon, noodles and other mystery muck were scooped out. A fork and the spoon were used to wrangle out the ornament hook and more mucky goo.  Deft work with a knife and fork loosened the penny, removed by a glove-clad hand. Further peering and flashlight shining revealed a second penny, also removed using the aforementioned utensils accompanied by a certain level of colorful cuss words. And now it felt too late for the beach option.

In a normal, child-free home, it might be a mystery how two pennies landed in the disposal. Not at my house.

Last week, while walking into work, near a part of a car on the ground at the entrance to a parking lot, was a pile of coins. It's pretty common to find a couple pennies or dimes in the gutter or on the sidewalk, but this was significantly larger -- 61 pennies and a dime -- clearly the largest bounty of coins on the streets of Lowell so far. At the time, it felt like a gift from the universe.

I gathered up the coins, wondering if anyone passing by would think I was a reasonably well dressed street person, and also wishing I knew binary code for the series of ones and zeros making the message from the universe that certainly must be embedded in the pile. The coins were dumped in my bag.

After work, coins were fished out, many of which were stuck together. They were soaked in a bowl, and when the water was poured out, some pennies fell into the drain. I plucked out two, hoping that was all of them.

Today's issue indicated that clearly more then two pennies had landed in the drain, and perhaps my message from the universe was that maybe I shouldn't pick up every coin I come across, now the world was messing with me, and 71 cents definitely isn't enough for a plumber. 

But Yankee ingenuity, Finnish sisu, a fork, knife, and spoon prevailed. And the real mysteries remaining were how the hook got into the sink, and why I constantly procrastinate and bail on promises to myself.

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