The Price of Procrastination

I had told myself, time and time again, that I would clean my apartment. And every time the next day came by, I’d tell myself, “I’ll do it tomorrow.” There was always intent, truly…but even then, whether it was a lack of energy or a sense of being overwhelmed, I’d always have an excuse and the guilt in my gut.

“It’s alright,” I’d tell myself, “It’s not like I have anyone come by anyway, and I know where everything is. I know what’s clean and what’s dirty, and I can still freely move.” However, at some point, enough became enough: I had made the decision that I would clean tomorrow.

I was one day too late.

The day I had made this decision, I had plans to go out, for once, with my co-workers and bowl; to enjoy some socialization, fried food, and a watermelon margarita that had been calling my name for months. It was a fun time, despite the clamour of pins and shouts of children a few rows over…two hours of fun…of joy…

Two hours…for the worst to happen…

I was looking forward to enjoying the rest of my day off, maybe take a nap or play a game before the cleaning I’d do tomorrow. Given it had rained a bit on the way to bowling, and it seemed it would rain later, I figured a nap would be the best option since the sound of rain was soothing. But those plans were put on the back burner as soon as I entered my home.

Water…

There was water…

On my floor…

It didn’t seem like much at first, so I thought that, perhaps, the rainwater from earlier just seeped through my window or through some part of my front door…

That was until I turned the light on, and I saw the truth of the damage; my whole studio apartment floor was covered in a few centimeters of water…centimeters of water that also drenched the bottom of cardboard boxes, piles of clothes, my rug, and the bottom of my box spring.

I kept telling myself, after making the calls for a technician and water extraction specialists, and even to my landlord, that this was the worst timing for the universe to have this happen to me. But...even though I was not the cause of the flooding, for that was the fault of a water heater line from the vacant apartment next to me breaking open, I have no one to blame but myself.

For it was my procrastination that has left me here now, typing on my laptop at my parents’ dining table, waiting for the call back to be able to go to my apartment...wishing that I had cleaned it sooner.

Such is the lesson learned, the consequences of my inaction...

And that is why I type this story out now, to those who may need it:

To the people who think of procrastination as simply not completing goals, or the lack of discipline leading to internal guilt.

To those who don't see the cost of waiting the next month, the next week, the next day.

To those who may not have the energy to complete something, whether it's from apathy or from something they can't control.

To those who have procrastinated time and time again...and have yet to have the worst happen.

This story is my cautionary tale to you: to not wait. For it only takes that one moment of hesitance, that moment of 'later'...that the world decides to show you the price of procrastination.