I'm a big procrastinator.
The good thing is that a lot of my life at home is the complete opposite at work. At work, I'm pretty organized, efficient, and get stuff done.
At home, all I want to do is play online poker, eat, and sleep. For me, "online poker" is one of my primary levels under Maslow's hierarchy of physiological needs.
Like being a functional gambling addict, I'm a functional procrastinator.
Now I have to clean the apartment because it's being shown tomorrow, which is why I'm delaying by writing this. (I'm busted again from Full Tilt, but I've made Iron Man for the month so Maslow can suck it.)
I have less than a month to find a place. I want something in walking distance or at least a short bus ride to work, and I want a nice kitchen and a nice bathroom, so I can maybe invite people over for a nice dinner and a nice shit.
That would also require furniture, which I still haven't purchased after 3 years because I still feel like I could get fired at any moment, and I need to be able to pick up and move easily. I've always marveled at hobos or The Incredible Hulk, who could fit all their belongings into that little bindle as they traversed the railroad tracks to a sad piano tune. The Hulk had even less belongings, as he always busted through his clothes anytime anyone made him angry. A couple Anger Management classes would've saved a bundle on his clothing budget.
A new apartment near work goes for roughly double what I'm paying now for my squat studio -- and the neighborhood would be considerably worse than my current one. Go figure on that one. Why can't I stay another year and put the extra money to a monthly car payment (plus furniture, even), and still have enough left over to blow on gambling?
Beats me. Could've asked that last year as well. Procrastination again. I like not having to worry about a car, particularly when dealing with the brutal 16 months of winter every year. My car was totaled by a snowplow on the first midwest snowfall I experienced (I later blew the insurance money playing online blackjack), so I wasn't subjected to the horrors of winter driving that I left behind in D.C. when moving to Vegas.
Car problems aren't what I'm eagerly looking forward to, either. But can I deal with trudging through the snow to wait for a late bus, getting fatter by not eating healthy (my kitchen consists of an untouched oven/stove and a refrigerator storing Ben & Jerry's), and squashing dozens of ants every day for exercise?
We'll see. The physical act of moving my ass at all surely takes the top spot on the procrastination list.
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