I'll do it later.

I should be sewing an item of wedding finery this morning, ready for my afternoon appointment. But can I be arsed? Not really. I'm going to need at least three more cups of tea, an hour on Facebook (playing Farmville, Bejewelled Blitz or other equally timewasting and addictive games) plus a further hour in the bathroom plucking at eyebrows and other unruly facial hairs. You don't know me yet, I'm new to this blogging game, but let me tell you this -procrastination is my middle name.
Besides, I've been sewing long enough to have it down to a fine art. This means I can sew very well, very quickly and always finish in the nick of time. Well, almost always!
This year hasn't got off to a great start. Perhaps I should adopt a second middle name, disorganised. So far, this year, I have managed to forget quite a few appointments and then get caught in embarrasing situations, such as still wearing pyjamas or having just got out of the bath. Believe me, it's not easy trying to sell yourself to a potential customer when your hair's dripping down the back of your neck, as you've only had time to towel dry it into a fuzzy, 'Stig of the Dump' style afro. I can't focus on discussing bridal wear, when all I can see in my peripheral vision is my own head bush.
Having three diaries on the go doesn't help (four now, if we consider this blog). I write appointments in various diaries, whichever is at hand at the time. I tell myself, I will transfer the information to all the other diaries - later, but never do. Of course the real reason for this general lack of efficiency is because my heart's not in it. I'm fed up with brides, their sparkly, ivory dresses and their colourful bridesmaids. I'm sick of them all, and sewing full stop.
I'd be happy to give it all up and write poetry, such as this Haiku I knocked up for breakfast;

Martini.

Icicles hang low
Obscurring the frosted scene
Snap off, add to gin