HUMOUR | RECIPE NOT INCLUDED
The Art of Embracing Wild Procrastination
Or, how I learned to stop worrying and took my mushroom risotto to the next level
I awoke as my wife slammed the front door behind her.
“Been sleeping all day again, have you?” she said with love, seeing me sprawled out on the sofa.
“Hmm? What?” I jumped up, saw the time, looked at my wife’s tired face. “Oh, you’re home already? Good day?”
“Have you been sleeping all day?”
“Of course not. What an accusation.”
“So what have you been doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“What have you contributed?”
“Contributed? Contributed to what?”
“Society?”
“Society? Why should I contribute to society?”
“Because if you don’t contribute to society you are a burden to society.”
“Says who?”
“That’s just the way it is.”
I couldn’t argue with that, so I shrugged and pointed. “That’s what I’ve contributed.”
She followed the direction of my finger to the kitchen, saw a sink full of dirty dishes, food splattered all over the counter.
“A big mess. Great.”
“No no,” I said. “On the stove.”
She looked again, saw a deep pan that was still warm.
“Risotto?” she asked.
“That, my dear, is the fruit of today’s labours.”
“It is risotto,” she said, lifting the lid and shrugging. “We always eat risotto on a Wednesday.”
“It’s not just risotto,” I said, wagging a finger in her direction, with love. “I’ve taken our mushroom risotto to the next level. It is, without a doubt, the best mushroom risotto ever made.”
“Okay. And this is what you’ve done all day? While I’ve been out working to pay our bills?”
“Not in the slightest! And you won’t be saying that when you try it.”
“Okay, let me try it then.”
“No, it isn’t ready yet. It needs a little longer.”
“Fine. So what else have you done? This can’t have taken all day. Did you do any work?”
“No, I’ve been far too busy to work.”
“Busy with what?”
“I’ve mostly been devising a new plan to overcome my procrastination, if you must know. It’s quite brilliant really.”
“Aha?”
“I haven’t got it all finalised yet, but I expect my productivity to go through the roof once this is in place. Possibly four-fold if you can imagine.”
“Sorry, what are you talking about?”
“I call it Wild Procrastination.”
“Wild-?”
“Wild Procrastination, yes. Let me explain: I spent the first few hours today reading articles online about how to overcome procrastination, and I felt thoroughly invigorated. But then I realised, to my horror, that reading such articles were not leading to me being productive, they just gave a false sense of productivity. That’s their trick.”
“Aha?” she poured herself a large glass of wine and sat down.
“So then I got to thinking, what even is procrastination? Well, out of all the definitions I looked up, I liked Merriam-Webster’s the best:
to put off intentionally the doing of something that should be done.
“And that got me to thinking some more, about what really should be done, you know? Who am I, just a single man on this Earth, to decide what should and should not be done? Everything needs to be done, and, simultaneously, nothing needs to be done. We simply choose to do some things, and give them a false ranking of importance in our minds over other things.”
“…”
“We get distracted from tasks we rank as important, and often those tasks are undesirable things, possibly falsely ranked. For example, I could set out to wash this sink full of dirty dishes, and stress the importance that I do this task before the day is through, but really, is it that important? When I get distracted and delay it, is that really a bad thing? It’ll get done when the time is right. Perhaps the things I do instead are simply more important, right at that moment?”
“...I’m not washing those dishes.”
“I’m not suggesting you should. Merely that they will be done, by whomever, when the time is right… I’ve lost my train of thought now. What was I saying?”
“I dunno, something about-”
“Oh, I remember! Yeah, so that’s when I thought about this idea of giving in to procrastination. That’s what Wild Procrastination is. All these articles discussing it talk about how to beat it. But that’s not natural. I believe we should procrastinate. Procrastinate until we’re blue in the face, and see what happens, rather than fighting with our brain telling it what needs to be done. Give in to it totally, and do whatever you feel like.”
“…”
“So today I’ve been toying with the idea. After a couple hours stumbling down Wikipedia rabbit holes and doom scrolling on Twitter, I found myself getting so much done. I dusted the top of the bookshelf, I took out the rubbish, I sharpened all of our pencils (remember how blunt they were, honey?), I organised all of our tinned food in order of expiry date… I did so much more, but right now it slips my mind. This is the power of Wild Procrastination. I — Are you still listening?”
She was staring at her wedding ring, rolling it on her finger. “…Huh? Oh, yeah yeah yeah. But sorry,” she pointed at the mushroom risotto. “When did this happen, exactly?”
“It started around 12pm. First I looked up a quick recipe and a video on Youtube, but then one thing led to another and before I knew it I was looking up the chemical compounds in mushrooms and how to maximise the umami to take it to the next level. That’s Wild Procrastination for you. I played around with some different combinations. Some worked, some didn’t. By batch five I nailed it.”
“This is batch five?”
“Yes.”
“And batches one to four?”
“The umami levels were unacceptable.”
“Okay, and can I ask, what were you supposed to be doing when you did this?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“What should you have been doing when this risotto stuff was happening?”
“Well, like I’ve explained, who are we to decide what should be-”
“What work did you have on today? What did you contribute financially?”
“Well, I had some work I thought needed doing, all because it had a deadline by 3pm, but my brain seemed reluctant, so I decided to give in to my Wild Procrastination and-”
“Stop emphasising it like that.”
“…Sorry. I decided to give in to my wild procrastination and do whatever felt right. Doesn’t this feel right?”
“Not really.”
“Oh?”
“What you’re saying,” my wife said, having finished her second large glass of wine, “is that while I was at work busting my balls trying to contribute to society and earn money to pay our bills, you were here, sharpening pencils, napping, and making risotto rather than contributing something meaningful? And you’re standing there, telling me that was intentional and you’re proud of that? Have I got that right?”
“Yes and no. Oh, it’ll be ready now by the way. Have a try.”
She sighed, picked up a fork, plunged it in to the pan, blew a little on the contents and deposited it in her mouth, chewing it slowly.
“Well?”
She shrugged. “Needs salt.”
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