Excuse Me

Anybody want to buy an excuse? I’ve got over 1000 of them and I really don’t need ‘em any more. They’re cheap! In fact, if you buy one, I‘ll give you two more for free. Sure, they’re a little flimsy, but they’ve held up for years and they’ve still got plenty of life in ‘em. Come on… whadya say?


As always, when the gods are trying to drill a point home into my rather thick skull, they send the message in threes. Yesterday, from three completely different venues, came the rather loud edict, “No More Excuses!” Okay, okay, okay! I hear you already. So, I’m trying to get rid of mine.


Oh, sure, I’ve got a whole host of great ideas, big plans, grandiose dreams and schemes, but countering them are myriad shabbily dressed beggars whining about the pursuit being too difficult, or giving ludicrous analysis as to the worth of actually implementing them. Oh yeah… and you thought I was a go-getter. Nobody’s as good at pleasure delaying as I am.


Man, I tell ya, I’ve got excuses by the by the bundle, by the box, by the ream, by the gallon, by the… well, hell, I’ve all but got ‘em stacked in multiple coffin-sized Sterlite containers and then I’ve got even more hanging around loose and stacked on top of them and crammed into any nook or cranny available. I’ve got a big BUT. Yep, definitely some real estate there. I‘ve got a vast plethora of IF floating around like so much itchy, wheeze inducing pollen. I’ve got excuses for making excuses.


After the gods so blatantly caught my attention yesterday, I spent some time thinking a lot of my excuses for not doing things. My excuse for not going to bed when I was tired, was to turn on the TV, “just to see what’s on…” What did I land on? It was TLC’s Hoarding: Buried Alive. It’s about people who compulsively collect things and stash them in their homes to the point that there is literally no room to move. The show’s advertising catch phrase is, “What if the only thing you ever threw away was your life?” As I watched the first ten minutes (I don’t do reality TV), the focus was on a man who appears normal - leads a good work life, has a pretty girlfriend, dresses well - but his house is absolutely stacked with things, all kinds of things. There is so much stuff in his house that he has to climb over piles and boxes to move about the place. As he put it, “I feel like a mountain goat.”


I thought, “That’s what my excuses look like.” Egads. I have so many of them strewn about that it’s sometimes difficult to move. And then, in my head, I heard the show’s catch phrase again, “What if the only thing you’re throwing away is your life?” Oy. That’s a harsh one. When the gods feel like snap-focusing my attention, they do it with a fairly stinging swat to my big BUT. I get it. I do. No more excuses. I’m cleaning the temple and letting in some of this glorious Spring air and sunshine.


Tune in tomorrow for an interview with External Validation and Self Doubt. I found them hanging out under some of the excuse clutter and they need a new home. They, too, come with free excuses.