by Steve Liddick
I quit smoking in 1964.
I quit drinking alcohol in 1988.
I quit chasing wild women in 1978. I never did catch any of the wild ones anyway.
It has been years since I was last kicked out of a restaurant for dancing on a table or got arrested for drunk driving.
I am no fun at all anymore.
There are certainly benefits to putting aside bad habits and wicked ways. For example: If I had followed the family tradition of continuing to smoke cigarettes, there is no doubt in my mind that I would be sitting here dead.
The roadways are much safer without one more drunk out there who doesn’t really think he is impaired and believes with all his heart that he is a better driver drunk than most people are sober.
As for the wild women; well, . . .
That is not to say that I no longer have any bad habits. There is no junk food item in our pantry that will not be attacked almost as soon as the groceries are packed away. And it is well known that I would get into a stranger’s car for ice cream.
Plus, I am a sandwich guy. Dagwood is my hero. I need clamps to keep my two-story sandwiches from falling apart. I am such a sandwich devotee, I told my wife that when I die I want to be buried between two large slices of bread.
I could do a better job of trimming down my To-Do list, but it grows even faster than the lawn mowing I have been neglecting. I’m already on page two of the list and I use a really small font.
There’s no point in my making New Year’s resolutions. Statistically those don’t survive more than a few weeks after January 1st. Mine have never made it past the twelfth stroke of midnight.
Not to make excuses for myself, but I am not alone in putting things off until tomorrow which, by the way, never comes because tomorrow presents us with still another tomorrow and so on and so forth—and so fifth.
I could organize a procrastinators club, I suppose. But anyone who showed up at all would be at least a day late.
I do pride myself on finishing anything I ever start. Where that falls apart is the starting part.
As Popeye says, “I yam what I yam.”
I wonder if there is such a thing as spinach cookies.
Books by Steve Liddick: https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_2?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=steve+liddick
Steve Liddick – Author of “All That Time,” “Old Heroes,” “Prime Time Crime,” “Sky Warriors,” “But First This Message: A Quirky Journey in Broadcasting,” “A Family Restaurant is No Place for Children,” “Campsite Gourmet: Fine Dining on the Trail and on the Road,” and “Eat Cheap: A Cookbook and Guide To Stretching Your Food Budget Dollars.”