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What’s the Rush?

In previous posts about my dorfenbergerthalamus, I have mentioned that I have full-blown panic attacks if I am not early for an event.  I’m a bit more lackadaisical about other types of deadlines for some reason.  And if there is no deadline at all, well…

It doesn’t help that my procrastination consistently gets rewarded.  For example, when people submit things that they would like to post to one of the websites I manage, it’s inevitable that they will make revisions two or three times.  So, why post it immediately?  Instead, I use what I like to think of as the Microwave Popcorn Approach.  Don’t open the door until there’s at least 3 seconds between pops.  In life this translates to: don’t take action until people calm down and move on to the next emergency.

Or unless you smell smoke.  Then you should probably move your butt pretty fast.

So, when Toyota sent me a recall notice, I set it aside and made a mental note to take the car in if I smelled smoke.  Which I would probably have done without the recall notice anyway.

Then I got a couple more notices.  The popcorn kept on popping.

Then I didn’t hear anything.

Recently, I noticed the Toyota recall notice at the bottom of a stack of paperwork that includes orders to get a mammogram from two years ago.

“Hmm.  Let’s see.  Spend Thanksgiving holiday getting my breasts smushed or hanging out in the lounge at Toyota?” I thought to myself.  Pretty much anything wins over smushed breasts.

Then I got the next recall notice.  Recalling the correction of their recall.  Basically, whatever they did to fix the problem for all the poor suckers who dutifully raced in there after the first notice did not work. So now those conscientious people get to bring their vehicles back in.  Not yet, though.  We will all be informed when the correction of the correction is ready to be implemented.

And yes, I am well aware of the fact that my glee over these circumstances dooms me to losing my carburetor on the highway while I’m going 65 mph and singing “Roar” at the top of my lungs.

Nevertheless, I feel procrastination has won out once again.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to make a quick dash to the kitchen to see if I can put a stop to that annoying, high-pitched sound.  I guess my popcorn is finally done.

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