A friend at uni (gawd, in the 90s) used to say “the hardest part of going for a run every day is putting on your shoes”. He also carried a ratty old beer coaster in his wallet on which he’d scrawled: “there’s nothing more attractive in a person than the knowledge that they find you attractive”. Apparently he’d consult this beer coaster before deciding whether to go home with someone.
Anyway. Back to putting on those shoes. Motivation, eh? It’s a bugger, isn’t it? Since the end of semester – so no more teaching commitments, no more assignments for the subject I was taking, plus the news that our home is being sold – I’ve found it really hard to sit down and read the journal articles that are piling up on my desk. Without deadlines over my head (apart from The Big One, but that’s years away), I’ve been doing all the vitally important things that need to be done before moving to a smaller place. Like packing away winter clothes. And sorting summer clothes. And moving the plants we’ve put in the garden over the last four years into pots so we can take them with us. And taking the review copies of books that I’ll never read to Vinnies. And washing all the dress-ups so they are clean for the next costume party. Because really, who doesn’t need this wig to be ready at a moment’s notice:
And yes, in case you were wondering, that is two wigs sewn together with a fake rubik’s cube sewn on top. It was for a Cyndi Lauper costume.
But back to motivation. See how easy it is for me to get distracted? I’m hopeless. How do you make yourself do stuff?
PS: Someone found News with Nipples today by searching for “skin tight rubber cow suit”. I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned those five words together. Ever. And wouldn’t it give you thrush? And would you have to moo while you were doing it?