Procrastination is my bête noir, my nemesis, my irritation. Here I am writing this blog bit when I should be calling the references sent by potential contractors willing to build our much dreamed of summer cottage. If I am ever going to get it out of my imagination and into reality, I need to bite the bullet, gird my loins, suck it up, throw caution to the winds, take a flying leap and phone a bunch of strangers for their opinions. It does not help that for as long as I can remember — and my parents let me use it — I have hated using the telephone.
So far today, I have made pancakes for breakfast and reorganized my recipe binder (no more recipes for Harvest Crunch peach upside down cake, fettuccini with whole cranberries, orzo- and cherry tomato- stuffed lemons, or gorgonzola and mint pizza). Then I spent over an hour on the Globe and Mail crossword puzzle— thanks to Google, it is now completely filled in.
Moments ago, I cast my eye on my two jewellery boxes that badly need sorting – do I really need papier maché earrings from the 70s? And is the missing half of several others going to miraculously reappear? Like odd socks in the laundry, highly unlikely.
Muddying the waters is the fact that the more capacious of the two was given me by my ex-husband in his favourite, but my most disliked colour — black, which might sum up in a nutshell why we are no longer together, but that is another story.
Greg gave me the other smaller one – a lovely wooden box made by a craftsman in the mountains of North Carolina. Which should be the box for up-to-date stuff and which to use for old keepsakes? I wandered out to the kitchen and cut up an apple.
My priorities need to be focussed: Perhaps taking small steps will help me on my telephonic way. I have printed up the lists of names the builders sent us. Now I will compose a list of identical questions. Then I will phone one person from each list. Then I will re-blog!
But first I’ll take pictures of some of the things I’ve referenced in this blog.
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