As Soon As I’m Finished With . . .

Having spent several hours this weekend talking in person, on the phone, or via email with friends about the reasons we have not accomplished what we meant to accomplish—no, what we were absolutely certain we would have accomplished by the beginning of August—I decided it might be useful to collect these truly excellent reasons in one place and “share” them.

(Now, for those of you who don’t know me well, one of these old friends pointed out that it was imperative for me to explain the degree to which I loathe the word “share.” He thinks it’s pathological. True, in polite conversation, I refer to it as the “s” word and refuse to use it. And, yes, I also announce at the beginning of my classes that the one thing we will never do during the semester is “share” our ideas. We might articulate, exchange, discuss, explain, support, undermine, illustrate, delight in, or rip to shreds ideas, but we will never, ever share them. And, finally, yes again, with God as my witness, the only thing we will do less than the sharing of our ideas is sharing our emotions. Don’t get me started. Share, indeed. Okay, back to the original post.)

Anyhow, so there I am, on the phone, yapping away about not getting stuff done. I’m doing stuff while I’m on the phone, of course. Women manage to perform tasks while talking; I’ve noticed that many men sit down to talk and give the phone conversation their full attention, but then again they might not have the same marathon-mentality held by many women. I can talk to my friends Bonnie, Pam, and Margaret for a good hour and get a great deal finished—but what I’m doing is not Accomplishment Stuff. I’m doing the dishes or the laundry (lots of guests all summer, which I love), or making ratatouille (all the fresh summer squash at these local farm stands forces me to take time to choose my own pieces carefully), or cleaning the cat boxes (they must think they’re getting an award for what they’re doing; collectively, they are achieving a new level of productivity) or I’m organizing paperwork.

This last one is sort of a cheat. It could almost pass as Accomplishment Stuff, but I can’t really fool myself. I do it on the phone because, to be genuinely honest, I can only talk myself into doing that kind of ordinance if I promise myself an intensely interesting conversation. Otherwise it sits there and squints at me: a nasty, guilt-inducing pile of receipts, letters, notices, and forms. It starts to growl when I go near it, as if needing to be taken for a walk, and that’s when I knew I needed to call someone who was having trouble with her own book.

That leaves me, happily or unhappily depending on one’s perspective, in good shape, because everybody seems to be having trouble with their own books.

And see how we’re back to the subject of the post again? Nice.

This sentence is what we’re using as the template: “If only I _________, I’d be in amazing shape with my book/project/research. But since I _______, what can they expect from me?”

I’ll start: “If only I had spent more time writing and less time reading, I’d be in amazing shape with my book. But since I wanted to do a good job, what can they expect from me?”

See how neatly the excuse slips into piety and smug self-righteousness? Nice again, right? I did that all by myself, too. No help, no looking anything up.

It came tripping off my self-sabotaging tongue.

Here are my five favorites, used with permission—as long as I swore never to name names. They’re a trusting bunch, my pals, and since they want to be invited back for ratatouille, they agreed.

1. “If only I wasn’t in the middle of the worst breakup of my life, I’d be in amazing shape with my project. But since I had my heart flattened by the Peterbilt Truck of Love, what can they expect from me?”

2. “If only I—or my wife, to be more precise—hadn’t just had twins, I’d be in amazing shape with my book. But since I haven’t slept since before the vernal equinox, what can they expect from me?”

3. “If only I had tenure, I’d be in amazing shape with my research. But since I need to be on every committee, attend every student, department, and college event, and publish as quickly as possible even before my research is all it should be, what can they expect from me?”

4. “If only I weren’t teaching summer school, I’d be in amazing shape with my book. But since I prefer to live indoors, what can they expect from me?”

5. “If only I wasn’t spending so much time talking about my work and instead actually doing it, I’d be in amazing shape with my project. But since I need to have a life away from my desk, what can they expect from me?”

And you, dear readers?  How would you fill in the blanks? Or perhaps you are too busy to share….