Discipline does not come naturally to me. I have to cultivate it, like some beautiful hothouse flower, putting in time and effort and care. The slightest negligence and the whole thing withers into a heap of mulch.
Or to put it in less flowery terms: I've been a lazy, Candy-Crush-playing, Reality-T.V.-watching layabout the house. I hate it and yet I secretly enjoy it. I know that by fall, when school starts up, I'll have to be disciplined again, so I am procrastinating with all my might.
I hope this week will represent a turning point. I'll be house-sitting in Victorville while my family goes to Oklahoma to prepare for the birth of my brother's first child. (I'm not going because there's limited space and I'm not all gaga for newborns anyway.) I hope I'll have less distractions and this in turn will help me get things done. But we'll see.
Last week Friday, I finally got my driver's license. I was so nervous, I could hardly sleep. I tried reading Agatha Christie to soothe my nerves. By Saturday, I'd finished: Murder on the Links, Poirot Investigates, Taken at the Flood, Mrs. McGinty's Dead, and The Big Four. (I liked all of them except The Big Four, which abandoned the English cozy mystery format to become an international spy; this change did not work.) This week, I've been reading non-fiction on battles, weapons, Mongols, bad parents, and Ennagrams.
I figure, if I must procrastinate, better to at least get some reading done.