Procrastination is the Thief of Time

When I was in grade 6, I had a teacher named Mrs. Lane, affectionately remembered as the typing Nazi. I really do have her to thank for the incredible typing skill that I now possess. There was this program she used called Fast Type. She would tape a piece of paper to the top of the keyboard so that it would cover your hands. The "drills" had varying levels of difficulty, of course starting with simply typing the letters that became highlighted on the screen, progressing to phrases and sentences. One of those phrases that has always stuck with me is "Procrastination is the thief of time." Now at the time, my grade 6 brain really didn't know what that meant. No, it wasn't until high school that that phrase came to life for me.

I was the world's greatest procrastinator. Not something I'm particularly proud of. When projects came due in high school, and of course I hadn't done them yet, I would ask the teacher that my mark was, how much the project was worth and decide if I could spare the percentage or not. Pathetic. I know. My brain always mixed up the cliche and it just became "put off today, what you can do tomorrow."

Unfortunately, this flaw has stayed with me into adulthood. I will get these grand ideas for projects, or see something around the house that needs attention, and instead, I'll read a book. (I've believe we have covered my book-addiction in a previous blog, so we won't go there again. The Kindle app for iPad certainly not helping. Just saying.) I have not decided that this is a problem I must try and overcome. So, my starting point will be to complete the design projects for the cottage that I have brilliantly crafted in my brain. In this blog entry, I will show the one that I completed on Easter weekend.

Almost a year ago, I went to the antique shop in Wainfleet, an experience in itself. There I found seven old door knobs, some glass, some brass, and an old piece of baseboard with chipping light green paint.

My dad took pieces of wood just slightly larger than the hole in the knob and pounded it in to fill the hole. I marked the back of the board so the knobs would be easily spaced. With me holding the knob on the front of the board, my dad drilled a screw from the back of the board into the wooden centre of the knob. We then screwed it into the wall behind the door and a coat rack was born!