Don't Call Me Marge: What I Ought to Do vs. What I Actually Do

If there’s one significant rivalry in my life, it’s the constant battle between what I ought to do and what I actually do. In this rivalry, what I actually do is always the clear victor, obviously. For example, I ought to have written this Theme Thursday post last Thursday, but what I’m actually doing is writing it now. I’m multitasking because the BBC is broadcasting Hot Fuzz right now and that’s an incredibly important film. It’s just getting to the brilliant fight scene with all the big guns. It’s a good thing I can type without looking.

Here are some of the other things I ought to be doing, and how they stack up against reality.

What I Ought to Do: Develop and Maintain My Core Strength

I’m not just saying that because I’m ashamed of my flabby, flabby abdomen. I’m saying that because I have a lot of back problems and doctor after doctor has nagged me for years to work on my core strength, but I keep not really doing it.

What I Actually Do: Some Half-Hearted Crunches About Once a Week, and Maybe Some Yoga

I’m pretty sure that’s not what my physicians have in mind. Then again, it’s kind of hard to tell what they do have in mind because they’re actually pretty fucking vague about it. You’d think they’d give me some specific instructions RE: which exercises I ought to be doing, how many, how often, and when, but no – instead they just make some ambiguous statements followed by embarrassed mutterings about how “it’s not that I don’t already have core strength, but, you know.”

What I Ought to Do: Wash My French Press Every Day

What I Actually Do: Not That

I know this is totally disgusting and not something I should mention publicly, but I often don’t wash it at all. I just rinse it out with hot water. I figure the residue gives my coffee extra flavor. It probably also strengthens my immune system, which is the same thing I tell myself when I suspect the cats have been licking my food behind my back but then I go ahead and eat it anyway.

Also, I recently read this whole post on XO Jane by this chick who apparently never wears underwear ever, so in terms of disgusting things you can admit publicly I think she’s got me beat.

What I Ought to Do: Comb My Hair Daily

What I Actually Do: Put It in a Bun

If you ever see me with my hair up, it’s because I haven’t combed it. If you ever see me, I probably have my hair up. The other day I sat in the pub looking like the cat lady from The Simpsons because my bun was giving me a headache and I was like, screw it, and I took it down. I left my cats at home, of course.