Always falling short

Look.  I’m NOT a tweeter.  Depending on what you call your private regions, I might have a tweeter, but I definitely am not one.  I Facebook, I iphone, I iPad, I scroll, scour, and peruse my Apple products.  I Facebook and I-everything. But, I’m not the best tweeter.

I am a super kick ass and uber wicked procrastinator.  I’m also never prepared. For anything.

In light of some famous passings in the last week, I’m trying to decide what my very last tweet would be.  In case. You know, “Check out her very last Facebook status!” Or “look at the last item she checked out on Pinterest!” is a staggering, underwhelming, jolt of pathetic. Last poignant tweets are what legends are made of. They are short and profound and all encompassing.

imageI have a script that I’ve been writing. Forever. I take that back.  I started it forever ago, have had it in my possession since then, but I never, ever get around to working on it. Another fun ADD quality that I may or may not have covered already. I don’t remember.

So what would my last tweet be? I am sitting here taking inventory of the history of all my crazy collections, interests, antics, my fall-shorts, (including mis-pronunciations) and I realize that there is one common theme:  Nothing is done.

This is my annoyed/suspicious face.
This is my annoyed/suspicious face. My annoyed face has more nostril flarage, and more inappropriate thoughts.

This procrastination situation doesn’t just canvas (that was witty) all of the crafting ventures that I’ve started and never followed through on, it also covers the chores, tasks, homing projects, sometimes daily activities, upkeep, and sometimes allegedly even showering – that are always paved with good intentions.

For example, I can’t even be a spring cleaner. I don’t even get to it in the summer, autumn or fall. I keep those doors closed.

Not spring cleaning. Just don
Not spring cleaning.  Need smelling salts.

So, since I’ve decided that I’m going to be an over-achieving go-getter in the after life, I’m already mentally arranging my last tweet, as well as my headstone.

So, here is the headstone tweet, the tweetstone, the headtweetstone: “Here is a big ole’ half-ass.”  An abstract, asinine double meaning. Like my existence. And, because I am neither profound nor poignant.

Maybe I’ll be able to afford a freestanding room to house my platinum or leopard print tomb with all the money I’m getting ready to make with this book.  After I clean the house and get my act together, and finish the Harry Potter series….Then I’ll grab a cup of java and go heat up some grub, grab the paper, snap a selfie, and mentally decide to maybe tomorrow write a page or two…

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