“O mother, mother! only a few more stitches! See! O mother, let me go!” But, even while we uttered this piteous wail, we knew that mother could not break her word. When she took her sobbing little girl on her lap, and explained how necessary it was that we should suffer the penalty of our persistent procrastination, if we would ever destroy this bad habit, we were conscious that her grief was deeper than our own, that she suffered with us. We did not soon forget that lesson, and it did not require many similar ones to effect a pretty substantial cure.
No one is more strongly tempted to put off till a more convenient season, here and there, some minor duty, than a housekeeper whose cares are many, and helpers very few. By afternoon she is so weary, rest would be very pleasant, but just as she thinks she may indulge in one half-hour’s quiet, some little item rises up that should receive attention to-day. “I have half a mind to let it pass till to-morrow,” but to-morrow has it own duties, and unexpected ones may arise. A few experiments in this most excusable of all procrastinations will teach the folly of the attempt to add to the already filled register of the next day’s work the duties of the present time.
The clothes are brought up from the wash; on sorting them out and putting them in place, you find a small hole in this article or a rip in that. You are very tired, your head aches; to thread your needle and mend those few small rips or holes seems a burden. “It is so little I’ll let it go till next week, one week’s more wear can’t make much difference.” And it is laid aside unmended. How is it when it next comes up from the laundry? A huge rent or a most appalling hole is the result. A heavy wind arose when the clothes were on the line, and with every snap a dozen more stitches were added to the work that procrastination has cost you, if indeed the garment is not ruined past any repairing. “A stitch in time saves nine.”
Some friends have just left your house. During their visit much work accumulated, while you felt bound to entertain your guests. Either you are with no help, or your servants are very busy, and you say, “I’ll take off the soiled linen from the bed, and leave the room to air a few days, or till a more convenient season.”
The airing is all very proper, but two or three days are not needed for it, and, if you leave the bed unmade, you will not find it wise or at all labor-saving in the end. Let the room and bed air until you are ready to take off the sheets and pillow-cases that need to be changed. When you go up to do that, take with you the clean articles, and being there, why not finish the work and leave all in order? But, if instead of that you say, “We’ll put the ‘spare chamber’ in order to-morrow,” perhaps just as you are retiring, a carriage stops at your door, and guests quite unexpected arrive, who find it convenient to stop with you overnight, to be ready for the morrow’s train, and late in the evening the guest-chamber must be prepared. Just try this once or twice,—you’ll not care to try it oftener,—and see if some one don’t come unannounced just as, when tired and sleepy, you are ready to retire. Will it be any easier to do the work which was put off till a “more convenient season,” at this late hour, than it would have been to have finished it at the proper time?
“There is hardly enough bread to last through to-morrow.”
“Well, it is stormy; we sha’n’t be likely to have company to-morrow. I guess this will answer, or we will stir up some biscuit if needed.”
In spite of wind or weather, be sure if you risk the delay you will have unexpected guests, and will regret that you neglected to be ready for the emergency.
“Here are some letters which should be answered immediately.”
“I guess it won’t make much difference if I leave them till to-morrow. I am very busy now.” So you wait. Are you any less busy to-morrow? A headache, or a sick child, or company prevents an answer then. Your correspondent waits anxiously for your reply, the failure of which may be the cause of great inconvenience.