Don't Read This.

Why are you reading this? I specifically gave instructions not to. For good reason. If you read this, you might actually force me to say something meaningful. That rather goes against the grain of someone who is a high-flying achiever in the art of procrastination.

Now I know you are probably idly wondering how I became a leader in the field of not-doing-today-what-can-be-left-to-next-week-or-possibly-next-year. It took some time and a lot of effort. You can't become a top dog overnight.

And I do admit that I had my struggles. My mother was a leader in the 'a place for everything, everything in its place' movement - not that she was ever acquainted with Benjamin Franklin as far as I know. She would do amazing things like make your bed while you were in the washroom at 5am before the sun even thought about rising. The fact that you had planned to sleep until at least noon did not make a dent in her hospital corners.

In the kitchen, woe betide you if you did not return the can opener to its assigned location, or sort the silverware into proper categories. We had dishes, and then we had the good dishes that only came out for holidays and those holidays were the only time we were permitted to use the dishwasher.

In fact, when watching that Julia Roberts' movie, 'Sleeping with the Enemy', I had flashbacks. (Possible spoiler...) Julia, in her new place, deliberately messes up her canned goods so they are not in neat rows and stacks. Later, she opens the cupboards and everything has been reorganized. Cue horror music.

I had this genetic compulsion to ensure that all i's are dotted and all t's are crossed. So much so that I was nicknamed 'Ms Organization' at more than one workplace.

One day, in a fit of determination, I went to my apartment kitchen and moved things. I put the sugar in a different cupboard. I moved the salt to the other side of the stove. They might have protested but I was firm.

I then drove myself crazy by opening the wrong cupboard for the sugar. For weeks. And weeks. All I remember is the constant opening of the 'old' cupboard and being reminded I'd put the sugar someplace 'new', growling at myself.

I imagine Mom, if she was watching this, might have had a good laugh.

I suppose my point is, if you're going to move the sugar, expect the neurons in your brain to revolt and continue to go back to the well-worn path of the 'old place' for a considerable length of time. If you don't give up, one day your arm will automatically go to the 'new place' without you even thinking about it. 

You might be tempted to then challenge yourself to change sugar locations again, just for fun. At that point it's probably best if you give up sugar altogether.