Letter to Backlog

Hello,

An accumulation of uncompleted work or matters needing to be dealt with.

Two weeks back, on my return from Bhutan, I self prescribed myself a list of things-to-do on this blogspace itself. As goes with me, most of them have been unattended to. To add to it, today is a Sunday which would turn to a working Monday after about a gap of four weeks, which is a blessing some would say, and I would differ. The backlog is mind boggling and I cannot believe the ease with which I just spelled it out. I am sure if I could come out of the 'Tomorrow-is-Monday' sorrow, I could kill them all with precise elan, but no. The sloppiness of one unattended work over the other is choking me right now even as I write this.

I have about 200 college scripts to check by 28th of this month, and college magazine and college quiz and college syllabus to be looked into with immediate effect, an editing file to be completed at my earliest, I's wedding cards to be arranged, and most importantly, a thesis which needs to be returned to. Amongst other things like loan approvals and petty indulgences.

I know each of the above is doable still, if only I shirked away my dutiful procrastination. May be I will. It is just this that tomorrow doesn't interest me. Nor the day after. Or the next, until it is about 3 30 pm of Friday. And this is so wrong. I think it would also be wise of me not to be expressing such disgust and melancholy so openly, but I am not a very effective undercover person. I wish tomorrow meant availing the local train to BGC with BRC and sharing tiffin with SM and the Dadas of that staffroom. God, I do miss the Dadas. That used to be so funny, reading them -- each like a chapter of the same book of disappointment!

Anyway, I must stop writing. This is addictive, type-therapy. Perhaps curative too.

Sighing,

K.