I spent most of my childhood procrastinating.  Cleaning my room. Doing my homework. Why spend ages doing it now when you could get it done later in only five minutes? This continued throughout my teenage years and into my 20s. And now, at the tender age of 39, I would like to say that I am a reformed procrastinator. But alas, that is not the case.

Even while writing this post so far, I have already paused so that I can order my daughter’s school meals for June and July (obviously very urgent as it’s barely April). I have also taken a break to browse online for shorts for my Florida trip in a few weeks’ time. For years I felt guilty. I should change. I should be different. But I have gained self-acceptance and self-appreciation in my 30s.

How did us procrastinators get such a bad name? Yes, we leave things to the last minute. But we get things done. Eventually. If quality is better than quantity, then shouldn’t the result be more important than the process or the timing? Do we know for sure that William Shakespeare did not pen ‘Romeo and Julie’ over a couple of long nights as he had spent the previous month getting pissed in the pub? Would his plays have been better if he had never procrastinated?*

While I am working hard on losing the baby weight, I know there are some things I cannot change. I will always be easy going when it comes to housework (not lazy, okay?). I will always make silly jokes (that mostly only I enjoy). And though I will always book a party venue 3-4 months ahead of time, I will organise everything else at the last minute. But things always get done. So what is the harm in procrastinating? It is just the way I am. And I’m okay with that.

* I have no idea how long it took Shakespeare to write any of his plays. It’s called creative licence. I’m just trying to make a point, okay people?!