Tag Archives: getting behind

The Hurrier I Go the Behinder I Get – by Coco Ihle

I’ve always thought I was organized and efficient, even anal, as some people say. Since my book was published last April, my skills in being organized, efficient and anal have obviously fallen by the wayside. With all the blogging, reading other blogs and leaving comments, reading articles recommended, going to conferences and conventions, and generally promoting said book, the days and months have whizzed by and now my house is a wreck, I’ve lost weight because I haven’t stopped long enough to eat proper meals, my guest room is piled with “book stuff” and I’m frustrated about not having enough time for myself. Is it just me?

Get this. The other day, a neighbor, Ron, from across the street came over and knocked on my door. He’s a former cop and sometimes asks to use my fax machine, so when I saw him standing there I expected him to make his usual request. Instead, he lowered his head a bit and looked up at me through bushy eyebrows in what I could only describe as a serious or even grave expression. I was instantly alarmed. My overactive imagination conjured up my forty-something year old son in a terrible gory accident or my grandson with a surf or skateboard wrapped around his head. Maybe my sister was hurt or my brother-in-law had another heart issue. Could Nellie, my ninety-six year old next-door neighbor have fallen again? Was she still alive?

The whole second that sped by before Ron opened his mouth was filled with agonizing thoughts of doom and gloom. I had already broken out in a cold sweat, my knees were rubbery, my hands visibly trembled and my heart rate was competing with Korsakov’s Flight of the Bumblebee.

Ron stepped closer and said, “I’m the Christmas Police. It’s time to take down your Christmas tree.”

I was so surprised and relieved, I almost melted right there on the vestibule concrete, but then I saw the smirk on Ron’s face. I was torn between explaining why I haven’t yet had time enough to take the tree down and fighting the impulse to smack him in the nose.

The only thing I could think of was, “What can I say. I love Christmas.”

“Just saying.”  With that, he turned and went back across the street.

I closed the front door and muttered to myself, “As soon as I finish my taxes I’ll take down the tree and clean and straighten the house and prepare a good healthy meal and sit down and relax and…”


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