Interruptions

Leila

I put on my painting clothes and gathered my supplies. My hair was pulled up in a wild ponytail that kept it off my neck. I had dunked the tips of my hair in paint too many times. I didn’t want to be trying to pick it out again.

Today was the day. I was going to tackle the door once and for all. I hoped the paint was still good. It had been sitting in my shed for a year. I hated that I was such a procrastinator. I told myself it was because I was too busy. I was, but not that busy. I was going to kind of miss having the damn thing hanging over my head all the time.

No, I wasn’t.

I wanted it done so I could put the next task in that top spot of the task I procrastinated against. I wanted a new tile backsplash in my kitchen. That was going to be something that sat in that top spot for a good long while, I predicted.

For now, it was the door. One mountain at a time. I carefully poured paint into the pan and dipped my roller in it. I had spent at least an hour taping around the door