"I'll do it Tomorrow."

An ode to my procrastination.

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I wake up groggily from my slumber and, bed head intact, forge my way towards the bathroom. I step in and my toothbrush stares me in the face, I pick it up and motor through my daily oral hygiene. I begin to undress and my toothbrush gives me a nasty look,
almost taunting me, it says, "Aren't you going to put the cap back on the toothpaste?" Unwilling to expend what would be a few seconds' worth of energy I continue with my morning routine and chide back, "I'll do it on my way out!" I can almost see my toothbrush shaking it's head as I turn the tap on. As usual I spend more time than required in the shower and am running a few minutes behind. I grab my towel in a jiffy and as I attempt to quickly dry off, my toothbrush chimes, "The cap isn't going to put itself back on, it'll barely take any time." Frustrated and oh so late, I shout, "Getting to school on time is more important than screwing a tiny cap onto my toothpaste!" and proceed to wear my uniform. The disapproving remarks of my toothbrush become background music to my early morning frenzy. I feel a pang of guilt as I walk out the door, "I'll put the cap back on tomorrow." More than the toothbrush, I say this to myself.

It is a few days later, the same tune plays out but a with heightened sense of disappointment. I am about set my toothbrush down "Are you forgetting something?", it says. I groan disapprovingly and reluctantly reach out to screw the cap back on but my hands land on cold granite. "You should've done it yesterday", my toothbrush says smugly as I scan every nook and cranny of my bathroom to locate the cap of my toothpaste that seemed to have teleported to another dimension. "This is why you should listen to me." I ignore the holier than thou attitude of my toothbrush and get on with my morning routine. I scour the place quickly, "I told you so, I told you so, I told you so." my toothbrush was singing. I knew the cap couldn't be retrieved, the maid had been here, it was probably in the trash. I muster up my best and convincing voice, "So what if I lost the cap to this one? There's always the next tube of toothpaste. I can handle remembering to screw a tiny cap back on." I say as I walk out the door. Both my toothpaste and I know, deep in our minds, that I will lose the next one too.

xx

Ritz