Re(d)straint
Behold:
(Okay, kindly humour me and imagine that these words are in fact a picture of a brown box that is partially covered in courier stickers. My phone is currently acting up, so unfortunately I have been unable to transfer the photograph that I captured of the actual aforementioned object.)
This parcel with my name on it was delivered to me on Monday morning. It is now Tuesday night (scratch that, WEDNESDAY early morning now, since midnight's already come and gone) and it is STILL unopened.
Why, do you ask? Because I actually have - and I am astonished to discover this about myself - amazing self-restraint. It used to be as elusive to me as a metabolism (which, by the way, has been missing in [in]action since birth. So please, if you find a stray metabolism, kindly send it my way?). Especially considering that I have been impatiently waiting for this very delivery for a torturous two and a half weeks, during which I spent every day (perhaps even multiple times daily, since I don't fixate AT ALL) checking the shipping status of the order, as if the mere act of staring at an unchanging virtual tracking receipt on the screen would somehow speed up the entire delivery process.
So why did I not promptly rip it open in that blissful instant that I accepted it from the courier on Monday morning? Because I have a murderous deadline right now (it's killing me, even though the slaying is supposed to be the other way around) and I just knew that opening that parcel and getting lost in its wondrous contents (a book for me and a musical gift for someone else) would mean that I would get so side-tracked from work, that I would never get back to it.
Now I need all two of you, my dear imaginary readers, to tell me how incredible I am for showing such remarkable self-discipline. Okay, if not incredible, can we settle for all right, then? No?? How about just so-so..?
P.S. 12:35 AM and I STILL have not given in to the temptation to open it. Now if that is not a super-human feat, I don't know WHAT is. (And don't you dare come and tell me about the people scaling Everest without limbs, or about those poverty-stricken, motherless drug addicted children who miraculously manage to grow up and become extraordinarily successful career criminals! For someone with my lack of stamina, not opening this parcel is on par with a severely dyslexic child winning a spelling bee. Or something.)
(Okay, kindly humour me and imagine that these words are in fact a picture of a brown box that is partially covered in courier stickers. My phone is currently acting up, so unfortunately I have been unable to transfer the photograph that I captured of the actual aforementioned object.)
This parcel with my name on it was delivered to me on Monday morning. It is now Tuesday night (scratch that, WEDNESDAY early morning now, since midnight's already come and gone) and it is STILL unopened.
Why, do you ask? Because I actually have - and I am astonished to discover this about myself - amazing self-restraint. It used to be as elusive to me as a metabolism (which, by the way, has been missing in [in]action since birth. So please, if you find a stray metabolism, kindly send it my way?). Especially considering that I have been impatiently waiting for this very delivery for a torturous two and a half weeks, during which I spent every day (perhaps even multiple times daily, since I don't fixate AT ALL) checking the shipping status of the order, as if the mere act of staring at an unchanging virtual tracking receipt on the screen would somehow speed up the entire delivery process.
So why did I not promptly rip it open in that blissful instant that I accepted it from the courier on Monday morning? Because I have a murderous deadline right now (it's killing me, even though the slaying is supposed to be the other way around) and I just knew that opening that parcel and getting lost in its wondrous contents (a book for me and a musical gift for someone else) would mean that I would get so side-tracked from work, that I would never get back to it.
Now I need all two of you, my dear imaginary readers, to tell me how incredible I am for showing such remarkable self-discipline. Okay, if not incredible, can we settle for all right, then? No?? How about just so-so..?
P.S. 12:35 AM and I STILL have not given in to the temptation to open it. Now if that is not a super-human feat, I don't know WHAT is. (And don't you dare come and tell me about the people scaling Everest without limbs, or about those poverty-stricken, motherless drug addicted children who miraculously manage to grow up and become extraordinarily successful career criminals! For someone with my lack of stamina, not opening this parcel is on par with a severely dyslexic child winning a spelling bee. Or something.)
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is a South African girl living in South Africa. That doesn't sound very original, we know, but you might find it remotely interesting when you learn that she has only recently returned to South Africa for the first time after a nine year, one month and two week (non-stop!) stint in the United States where she accidentally became an outlawed alien (also known, especially in immigration circles, as an 'illegal immigrant.' We prefer the term 'outlawed alien' ourselves). During her reversed exile from her homeland, she kept herself occupied by winning this website (but only after shamelessly bribing the judges) and thus being unleashed on the web where she slowly, leisurely became the World's Laziest Blogger;
by being a nanny and by attending sci-fi conventions in search of other aliens. In the US, she also made her sailing debut, her international acting debut, tried and failed to learn the piano,
and never learned to cook. She is hopelessly addicted to coffee, dogs (especially Labrador Retrievers), how-to books (with a particular fondness for her copy of the Time/Life A - Z Medical Encyclopedia), and she tends to grossly overuse parentheses (we're not kidding) during her attempts at writing, which you may - if you really have masochistic tendencies - subject yourself to by reading the words to the right of this column.
If you REALLY and truly STILL want to know more, you can read her C.V. here.
Or you canstalk her send her some love via e-mail at: redsaid[AT]gmail[DOT]com
The Wish List (Because yes, she really does need more how-to books. Honestly!)
online
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The Wish List (Because yes, she really does need more how-to books. Honestly!)
online
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winner of best writing
retro dots skin designed with care by
liberty belle skin designed with care by
hosted with love by
Blogomania
script assistance by
scriptygoddess
MT Blacklist
one reader and counting... by
with these rings, I thee join
« Blog Baltimore »
Copyright belongs to the author (ha ha! She called herself an author!) of this website.
I am speechless with wonder.
Please send self control across the tropic of whatever or the whichever parallel that's in the southern hemisphere to me.
D
You are amazing... I couldn't do it.
... and if I find a stray metabolism I'm keeping it!
Do It. Open it, you know you want to.
Self restraint is over rated. Its allot like honesty. You feel like you doing the right thing but zero reward. DO IT.... Trust me. You will feel better. OPEN IT. Do it. Do it. Do it...
Ps. Stop picking on the dyslectic kid.
Dee: Excuse me, YOU, miss Weight-Loss Queen of the Year, need NO more self-restraint!
Aunty Helpful Ph.Dictator: Listen here, you with your big brain, I'll wrestle you for that metabolism! (Heh, and SHE calls ME amazing!!!!) I'm so proud of you, woman!
POWDER PUFF BOY! Oh my goodness but it is good to hear from YOU again! Are you checking on me to make sure that I won't bite your roommate (former? current?) when I meet him next month? (Don't worry, he'll be safe with me, she says and smacks her lips.) How on earth ARE you? Did you have to build an ark? As for picking on dyslexics... it's a well-known fact that one can always pick on your own kind. (I'm self-diagnosed, but I SWEAR I have it. Or something equally damning to ever being a successful writer.) Now, how are you? Are all your replanted organs still in tact?
I was going to leave a proper comment, but I think I'll wait a bit.
Kyk: Now looky here, withholding your comment from me? Now THAT is just downright cruelty to animals! Self-inflicted waiting is far more humane.