by Shannon Schumm, guest columnist

Procrastination. We all know it, and some of us excel at it. I am sure if a degree were offered, I’d likely have my doctorate by now. Psychology calls this fear or anxiety, but I blame mine on not being able to start and being a bit of a perfectionist. I feel the impending “ick” in the pit of my stomach—the I-know-I-have-to, I-really-need-to, but-my-God-I-don’t-want-to feeling.

Productive procrastination was told to me in my corporate life as, “intentionally delaying less important or less urgent tasks by focusing on things that are beneficial for personal or professional growth.” I tweaked its meaning to suit my needs: I delay important tasks by focusing on other random not so important activities.

Whenever I consider homework, I start with what I like doing first, or even what professor I enjoy the most in the moment and put off all the things that sound most painful or time consuming. I find myself in my office (which is really my daughter’s old room – lined with fairy wallpaper), coffee in hand, computer screen glaring at me, D2L eagerly waiting for me, but WHAT? My feet are cold, so I of course I need some socks.

After getting my socks, I see there is a load of laundry that needs to be done. Well, by all means, I can multi-task that, by starting the laundry, all while doing my dreadful assignment.

Thirty minutes later (because I can’t just do mine), I check to see what laundry my son might be procrastinating on. I am horrified by the actual state of his room and tidy just enough for a walking path. With a renewed sense of pride, I return back to the assignment.

Then I realize my glasses are somewhere—possibly in my room, the laundry room, or the son’s room. Nope. Bathroom (not sure when I went in THERE). As I am walking out, I notice the toilet and realize it too needs a little attention (cleaning not otherwise friends, this isn’t THAT article). Forty minutes later (with a bathroom and shower so shiny Mr. Clean would give me a high five), I return back to my loyal assignment.

I putz through D2L, reviewing my other classes, checking my grades, making a note of all the other approaching assignments (determining if there is something else I can cherry pick), staring up at the fairies and wondering if I’m really on the right path, or just wasting my own time here in college. I shake my head, because this revelation of time wasting makes me realize I am doing just that. I access the course, then read through the assignment, open up Word, take a deep breath and a sip of coffee, but my coffee is empty. YES! To the kitchen I go!

I pour myself a hot cup, add my creamer, and realize there are coffee dribbles on the counter. You see where this is going right?

After about an hour and a half—my counters scrubbed, dog nose prints cleaned off the sliding glass door, oven, and trash can (it’s brushed chrome, not a smart choice I tell myself), fridge cleaned out, dishwasher loaded, trash emptied, dog poop picked up since I was outside anyway, and dinner tonight planned, I reheat my coffee, chuckle at my magnet on the fridge that says, “I got SO MUCH Procrastinating done today” and head back upstairs to the loyal land of winged friends and my computer, to begin my paper again.

Since D2L has noticed that I am not “still around,” I have to log back in. Then, the caching nightmare begins. After clearing my cache, turning my computer off about three or four times, and saying every curse word combo I know (a sailor would blush), I am finally able to get back in.

I tell myself this time I am not messing around! This time I am really starting. I confirm that nothing has changed: no, my Lit paper hasn’t been graded, no, my history professor hasn’t posted a new worksheet, no, I don’t need do anything else except my start research paper. Hmmm, maybe I should do an outline first, so I open up my outline template, from my favorite professor who encouraged me to write this column.

Then I realize, I promised I would send over this column on procrastination. So, I work on this instead.