Procrastination, Thy Name Is Shane

My other option for title was "Procrastination, What is it good for? Absolutely everything! Say it again!"

I last donated blood in February. Eight weeks later, I get a call from the Red Cross and schedule my next donation. Because of my strenuous job, I always donate on Saturday morning to give me the most possible time to recover before returning to work. Unfortunately I fell asleep that morning and missed my appointment. Over the next three months, I kept coming up with excuses not to bleed. Some of those excuses were legitimate. I was sick, on vacation, on pain medicine, or my Moma was in state. The other weeks, my reason for not going was usually just tiredness and laziness. Since my missed appointment, I've screened 26 calls from the Red Cross. I'm a bad person.

I started this morning, as I do most mornings, by falling asleep on the couch. I finally forced myself awake at eleven and was prepared to declare the day wasted after such a long nap. But because it had been three weeks since I last mowed the yard, I forced myself outside. Instead of mowing the whole yard, I just weedate the tall spots and left the brown spots for another day, ignoring the back yard entirely. That only took twenty minutes, so I considered washing that inch thick layer of grime off my car. I then remembered that if I waited a week, there would be another inch thick layer on Betty, this one being bug guts collected between here, Clinton, and back again. With nothing else left to avoid doing other than cleaning the house, I grudgingly crossed the river.

There was no line, and I've been hydrating like it's my job since January, so I expected to be in and out in quick fashion. However, the three nurses who took turns adjusting the needle never could get a steady blood flow. I don't think they got a full pint. But I had already written the haiku, so I tweeted it anyway.

Procrastination
For once, I have beaten you
I'm now a pint low