What a difference a day or two can make. One day our lawn was lush and green and the next day? Well the next day a portion of it looked like it was mid-December instead of July. It case you missed it, grass generally isn’t too green in the middle-of-winter unless of course, you live in Florida. At the end of the day, you know who will get all the blame don’t you? Of course you do! This time it is rightly so that I should be pegged as the bad guy. It is entirely fault. At the moment my only saving grace is that the General isn’t home and she probably won’t read this blog. At best, the Internet service in her mother’s home isn’t good.


I can almost hear her asking me: “Do I have to tell you everything?” No, on second thought, that’s not what she would ask. She would gently (or perhaps not so gently) remind me that she told me we had a broken water sprinkler head and that water was shooting up in the air rather than being broadcast out over the lawn. Of course, she told me that, but that was a couple of weeks ago. How am I supposed to remember? A lot has happened in the past two weeks. So the real question is: “How many times do I have to tell you?” Trust me, that question will be in her reservoir of immediate responses when she sees the yard.


In my defense, when the oil change light comes on in my car, it doesn’t go off until I take it in to get the oil changed. Maybe I need a constant reminder?  Guess what, the same is true in the General’s car. The scheduled maintenance for her car is every 5,000 miles. Of course, they really don’t change the oil but every 10,000 miles. The 5,000-mile interval is just a rip-off for them to kick the tires, look under the hood and tell you everything is fine. I think the cost for doing that is about $139, but they have freshly baked muffins for you to eat at the dealership while you wait. They will even loan you another Lexus to drive if you need one. In addition, they wash you car for you unless there are mandatory water restrictions in place.


Guess what? The General’s car had 10,270 miles on it on Saturday morning. It was past time for the oil to be changed. [Note: This was the time for the first real oil change] It had been my intent to do that last week, but last week was full. VBS and a house full of grandkids can vie for one’s attention. Getting her car to the dealership didn’t happen. If it has to be someone’s fault, I’ll fall on the sword. It was my job. Besides, that the dealership is in far North Austin and the General would never find it.


Okay, so I felt like the bad guy on Saturday morning when I broke the news to the General that her car needed the oil changed. In an act of boldness, I suggested it would be better for her to drive my truck. Did I mention that driving my truck causes her hip to hurt? At least that is the feedback she provided the last time she drove my truck to Odessa.


The truth of the matter is, at our ages something is going to hurt regardless. Of course, after 49 years I knew there was no way she was going to intentionally put additional miles on her car until the scheduled oil change had taken place. After all, she fills her car up with fuel at half a tank. There was no way she was going to drive her car. Truth be told, there was an abbreviated lecture tossed in my direction as she made her way out the door, but she opted for the truck. I would have bet money on that?


She reminds me of the parable of the inopportune widow in the Bible who drove the judge nuts demanding justice. You probably remember the story. I think it is recorded in Luke. A poor widow seeking justice repeatedly approaches a judge. He refused to provide the answer she wanted. Eventually, he grants her request so he will not be worn out by her persistence.


At any rate, the General left for Odessa in my truck on Saturday because of her mother’s health issue. Reportedly, the wiring in her mother’s newly inserted pacemaker had come loose. Consequently, the “energizer bunny demeanor” was now in very slow motion and at risk for a fall or two or worse. Obviously, the General’s trip wasn’t a planned trip. Actually, we had planned a quick 3-day trip to Maine this week. Learning of her mother’s situation, I was in complete agreement the trip to Maine needed to be put aside. Going to support her mother was the only priority. We can do Maine later.

Getting back to the lack of green luster in a portion of our yard, I’m going to be in a real jam if it doesn’t green up before the General’s return. After all, she gave me fair warning. Okay, in my defense, she didn’t tell me there was more than one broken water sprinkler head. I’d say, judging for the appearance of deadness we’ve got several sprinkler heads that are not working.


Sometimes procrastination is an issue for me. I’m well intended, but you know what they say about that. Speaking of procrastination: “In 1972, the Procrastinators Club of America sent a letter to the Whitechapel Bell Foundry in London, complaining that the Liberty Bell was cracked. After an interval, the foundry responded: ‘We would be happy to provide a replacement bell. Kindly return the damaged bell to us in its original packaging.”


All My Best!



5 thoughts on “Procrastination”

  1. I belong to the Procrastinators Club of America, or PCA, based in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, home of the Liberty Bell, by the way, and describes its purpose as promoting “the philosophy of relaxation through putting off until later those things that needn’t be done today.” It was established in 1956 by Les Waas, who has served as its acting president ever since then, As of 1995, the club had an international membership of about 6,000 people. The club publishes a newsletter called “Last Month’s Newsletter”.Plus I belong to the National Sarcasm Society. The NSS’ motto is “Like We Need Your Support” and I have their sign on my bookshelf waiting to be hung on my office wall.


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