I’ve been meaning to write this post for a long time, a long, long time, but I’ve been putting it off. You may be asking yourself, “What does the “P” in Lucy P. Locket stand for—Patience, Penelope, Phoebe?” No, none of those. Today I am coming clean; it’s Procrastination. Yep, Lucy Procrastination Locket.
Years ago, when there were no executive assistants, I was a secretary. There were no computers, no smart phones, not even floppy disks. Every document I typed (My first job was in an attorney’s office.) was done in triplicate. There were no copiers either. I thought carbon paper was a gift from the Almighty. I did the whole secretarial thing; I typed, took shorthand, and filed. To be perfectly honest, I filed only when I could no longer see over the “To Be Filed” basket on my desk. I hated (hated is much too mild a term) putting all those sheets of paper I had typed in those beige folders.
I was reminded of it yesterday when I noticed my email “In Box” had several—make that, many—hundreds of messages needing to be put in folders or deleted. I scrolled to the end of the list. The first one in the in box was dated June, 2013. Aargh! Times passes quickly when there’s filing to be done.
Of course, I do delete those important missives from Penney’s, Sears, Travelocity, the home improvement store where Mr. Fixit had his second career, Amazon, etc. that are received daily. I do transfer to folders the monthly bills I receive online
I do have a good excuse though for procrastinating. There are so many books to be read and so many onlines games to be played. Let’s face it, at this stage of my life, my time is finite. When there is a choice to read or to clean out my in box, there is only one choice and it’s not filing, that’s for darn sure.