I was fumbling and fuming over things this week, which I should have handled months ago.
Knowing I have only caused myself undue stress and who knows what else, I pondered as to whether procrastination is a hereditary thing, a learned thing, or to blame on your birth position in life. You know first child, second child, only child, etc.
This week has been less than first rate. Weather, no sun . . . . etc, etc. Then I decided, because the window of time had run out, the need to find a new family doctor was pretty much now or never.
I had tried to make appointments with one doctor, but she was always scheduled full or unavailable. After four or so attempts, I decided maybe she didn’t need new patients and searched on.
I finally found one. But as she didn’t know me, she couldn’t authorize refilling my prescriptions.
Of course several scenarios went through my mind. Do without meds? Give up? Drive to 135th and Ouivira and camp on the doorstep of the former doctors office till they take pity on me and send me on my way?
I finally left a voice mail in the nurses’ phones begging for help. I expected to wait numerous days for a call back.
My next step of course was to call my daughter. This is the shoulder I tend to cry on when stuff in Kansas is gloomy, or I have done something stupid. Being in another time zone makes her a little more resilient and, of course, she doesn’t have to answer.
But I called, and she answered; she had been thinking about me, too. She had a lousy day teaching, and her huge group of 100 band students had been less than perfect.
I asked her if she procrastinated on stuff. She did, so I figure she got it from me.
We talked about all our problems and laughed, and it was nice to hear her voice.
Since my countdown was less than nine days of meds left, I made a mental list of options. I scolded myself for not handling my business affairs better and listed on paper the other things I need to handle very shortly.
Shortly after 5 p.m. the phone rang. The nurse from the past doctor’s office wanted to know where I wanted my Rx’s called in to. I told her she was awesome and a blessing. She said she was happy to hear it, but just doing her job.
My family didn’t have people who procrastinated; at least I don’t think so. My Mom and Dad handled everything the minute they needed too. My siblings were the same way.
so, I wonder if this is a birth rank thing. Being last in line possibly, I waited for the ones ahead of me to fix what needed fixing.
I don’t know if my son possesses the gene or not.
I suppose I could ask him, but maybe some other time?
Procrastination-Can it possibly be hereditary?