How Long Does It Actually Take?

How long did it actually take me to post this column?

I had the best time last summer. I did everything: I golfed, swam, beached, and had breakfasts, coffees, lunches, and dinners with my friends – both the summer ones and the year-round ones. I even spat out a few of these columns – right at their deadlines.

         In the fall – the best season of the year out here – I did the same things I did in the summer for as long as I could. And I continued to spew out my columns – in the nick of time.

You know what I didn’t do last summer or fall? Anything on my to-do list. If something came up, like a dripping faucet, I added it to a to-do list I keep in a little red notebook, labeled “Future Tracy’s Problems.”

Well, here we are, in the depths of winter, and the chickens have come home to roost.

I’m like the grasshopper who played all summer and now doesn’t have enough food to tackle my responsibilities. Or am I the ant who collected tasks all summer and now has a glut of them? This simile isn’t working but whether I’m an ant or a grasshopper, I’m scared those roosting chickens are going to eat me.

I’m a procrastinator and have been all my life. When I was little, my parents called me a dawdler. In college, I pulled all-nighters to hand in my papers on time. My college roommate did her assignments as soon as she got them. She slept well every night. I never learned from her example.

Like most people – except my college roommate – I’ll put off something hard, boring, or time consuming, unless it’s urgent. I’d rather do something I enjoy, like golfing, swimming or beaching. Or working on my erotic novella aimed at the upper-middle-aged demographic called “Arthritic Ardor”.

It’s about the forbidden passion between an orthopedic surgeon and his patient with a torn rotator cuff. Here’s an excerpt, “Her paper gown accidentally dropped to the floor. The burly surgeon noticed her shoulders were glistening from her recent application of ICY HOT. He said, ‘Let me rub that in for you.’”

Leaves you wanting more, right? Notice the product placement. I see movie rights in my future if only I had time to work on the book.

But I can’t because we’re near tax season – the worst season of the year – and I need to scan some receipts. Sadly, my printer’s scanner broke last August. Past Tracy never fixed it. She was too busy golfing, swimming, and beaching.

Past Tracy thought Future Tracy would be smart enough to repair it. Regrettably, Present Tracy hasn’t determined what’s wrong and she’s anxious because the tax man cometh.

And yes, she has tried turning it off and turning it on again.

Many people hesitate to do formidable tasks. Take Congress. Please.

For decades, they’ve been promising us reforms to immigration and healthcare – admittedly very difficult undertakings. Instead, they kick those cans down the road. Maybe my college roommate should run for Congress. She has never kicked a can down the road.

I don’t only shirk on big tasks. I also put off small jobs like emptying the dishwasher, folding laundry, or thinking of a better title for “Arthritic Ardor.”

“I’ll do it later” is a constant refrain in my brain. The problem is the longer you put off some chores, the bigger, harder and scarier they become.

A woman named Christi Newrutzen has addressed her own procrastination issues on Instagram. In her posts, called “How Long Does It Actually Take,” she times herself completing a chore she’s been putting off, then announces how long it actually took.

Her videos of completing the job are fast paced with quick edits and bouncy songs. Christi likes to twerk to the music. It’s delightful.

In one post, it took her eight minutes to move a mattress – that had been standing in a hallway for weeks – into the basement. I was nervous for her when she twerked on the stairs.

I admit it’s odd to watch someone else do their chores when avoiding your own to-do list. But Christi’s point is important. Every time she walked by that mattress, the idea of putting it away grew increasingly daunting. Then, in eight minutes, the job became easy, actually.

Christi learned what my college roommate has always known and what Nike has always told us: Just do it.

Present Tracy re-learns this lesson all the time. For years I’ve been doing laundry on Wednesdays, planning, no, hoping I would fold it immediately. But I routinely put it off until Sunday when I can fold and watch the Sunday news shows. I enjoy doing a simple task while yelling at the TV.

Waiting to fold meant baskets of clean clothes cluttered my house for four days a week. It was ugly and it muddled my brain. Now I wash clothes on Saturdays, and I fold and yell on Sundays.

How long does folding my laundry actually take? 15 minutes for the darks, and 25 minutes for the whites; Mr. Hockey’s unmentionables slow me down.

Especially when I twerk.

I wish I was more efficient on every task. I’m not and my printer is still broken. Future Tracy will buy a new one, even though it’s infuriating that printers don’t last.

Present Tracy should take the time to fix it, but she’d rather finish “Arthritic Ardor.” 

I think we all want that.

Published in The East Hampton Press on February 26, 2026

https://www.27east.com/east-hampton-press/opinion/columns/article_1873e2ee-bec8-4a3a-93ea-33892bbd8bc9.html

Photo By Me!!!