If I Know What's Good For Me...

 ...why do I constantly do something else instead?  Is there anyone around here with less self-discipline than I have?
 
You know, it was not that long ago that I was doing homework pretty much every night as I pursued my accounting degree.  True, it meant that I often went to bed at 3 AM, and wrote a lot of papers on my laptop at Golden Corral on class day, but I always got the work done. 

Or look at how I was right after Memorial Day.  I went to the gym every single night for a while, for cardio at least.  And back in the 1970s and 1980s, there were periods when I got a lot of exercise and lost a lot of weight.

And even looking back to about five years ago, I was writing Mages of Mâvarin every single day and every single night.  At lunch I would write a scene, and at night I would type up some portion of what I'd been writing by day, revising as I went.  That's how I ended up with my 1230 page monster of an unfinished manuscript.  It's almost done - and it's been almost done for about four years now.

Fifteen years ago, I was editing three fanzines at once, writing half the material for each of them, and helping Teresa to fill the membership orders.  I didn't get much sleep then, either.

But look at me now.  I'm not doing well with the diet and exercise.  I'm not getting significant work done on the books.  I'm not studying for the CPA exam.  I'm not doing anything for Project Quantum Leap, and United Whovians of Tucson are long gone except as a fairly inactive email list.

What takes up my time?  Blogging every single night is my current mania, replacing all that other stuff.  Sure, I enjoy it, but what about all the other things I should be doing?

• I only just got around to straightening out a paperwork problem with the car John bought months ago.
• I still have to deal with the rent on the storage space, the missing key for the lock on the storage space, and the death certificate, currently locked in the storage  space, that I need to get a refund from Radiology Limited, which accidentally overcharged my mom for an MRI three years ago.
• I promised Sarah that I'd finish my final edit of Heirs and send it back out to agents and publishers.  I haven't sent it to a publisher in over a decade, and it's changed a lot since then.
• I promised trainers and husband and self that I'd get back on track at the gym. 
• I promised Sara and Sarah that I'd finish typing up the end of Mages so they can read it.
• I promised the parish that I would get some pictures posted from the English Faire and the Feast of St. Francis Blessing of the Animals.
• I promised the bank I would get the reroofing scheduled.  The roofer has ignored my calls, but I haven't exactly been calling every day.
• I promised John I would take care of the snail mail that's been building up.
• I promised EVERYONE that I would get more sleep.

But what have I been doing?  Yes, I can check off that car thing, and tomorrow I'll deal with the storage space.  But what about the rest?  Will I go to the gym once I post this, or will I make excuses again?  Will I get to bed before 1 AM, which I was sure I'd do last night but didn't?

(And in the back of my head, the Julie Andrews version of Mary Poppins keeps saying, "That's a piecrust promise - easily made, easily broken."  But I don't want to break any of these promises!)

What the heck is wrong with me, that I spend half an hour trying for a better hummingbird picture, two hours watching a rented Mork and Mindy DVD, half an hour watching the end of Buffy Season One, and two further hours blogging, instead of doing all that good and important stuff?  Where, oh where, do I cut back on anything, to make room for anything else?

Karen