And that comes from a self-proclaimed procastinator.
Don’t you just hate it when something you know will only last 5 minutes gets delayed longer and longer and ends up ruining you a whole morning or afternoon? Well, that’s precisely what happened to me yesterday.
You see, my mother works for a small (almost familiar) company that owns a couple of apartments near the beach. Employees can use them for free whenever they want, which is great. There’s one apartment in particular that nobody ever goes except my family (it sometimes feels as if it were our own). It’s tiny and old but the building has two swimming pools, a tennis court… It’s our small retreat.
The thing is Mom recently decided that she couldn’t bear another night sleeping in those utterly uncomfortable, backache-inducing beds and resolved to buy some new ones. She finally bought them two weeks ago but it wasn’t until yesterday that they could take them to the apartment. Someone had to be in there when they arrived and, of course, that was me.
The last thing on my mind was that they’d arrive not 10 or 20 minutes late but a whole 4 hours and a half. And they didn’t even call to let us know they’d be late, it was Mom who had to (repeatedly) ring them until she got an answer and an explanation. When they finally got there, they didn’t apologise, despite knowing we don’t live there and that I had gone exclusively to be there when they arrived.
My plans to practise once back home (which was supposed to be at 5 or so) were, of course, cancelled. We were both in such a bad mood (my girlfriend had gone to the apartment with me) that we just had dinner and went to bed. I was seriously pissed off.
I’ve just done some Pilates and then I have to prepare my bags because we’re staying at the apartment for a week starting tomorrow. It’ll be the three of us (Elvis the Frenchie is coming, too) and I’m so looking forward to it.
