procrastination tree house

By Jack Price

The redwood tree-house swing set still sits in my backyard. I built it from a mail-order blueprint when my daughter, Stacy, was eight years old. Now she is... umm… past the age of swing sets. (Although she is young, I will not reveal her age; let’s just say she is a licensed attorney and my business partner.) She will never use it again. But there it sits.

Intentional Procrastination

I have consciously resisted tearing it down for good reasons. The little chalet-style roof over the suspended deck looks pretty covered with snow in deep winter. The support legs cast an interesting shadow on the greening grass in early spring, before the Black Walnut tree leafs out. I left it standing for decorative purposes. Let’s say.

Decision Time

A few years ago, when Stacy was in college, I decided to tear it down. I let her know, and she was not upset. But I wanted to wait for her to be home and take one more picture of her standing beside it as a keepsake. We never got around to taking the picture.

Demolition Overdue

Now the deck is seriously sagging on one side. The roof planks are covered with moss. The ladder rungs (made from maple closet pole instead of redwood) have rotted. I had to remove the rusty swings to prevent visiting children from getting hurt. It is a hazard and is becoming an eyesore.

Good Procrastination

It’s not the same as procrastinating on cleaning out the garage. Memories live in the swing set. I hung the deck joists singlehanded, mis-cut one of the six support legs and improvised a fix, maneuvered around shelf rock while digging the post holes for the ladder, and sawed through the cord of my circular saw, sending a nasty jolt of electricity through me. And when it was finished, it was a big hit with the neighborhood kids. I pushed many small backs to make the swings go higher.

Know Thyself

But who am I kidding? My rationalizations don’t fool even me any more. I procrastinate because I don’t want to move on. Don’t want to close the door on being the father of a small child. Tearing down the tree house will be one final acknowledgement that those days are long gone. It is the last symbol of her childhood—a big one—and it will hurt when I let it go. I am like a child that dreads ripping the Band-aid off.

It’s Time

Having brought it out into the light of day by writing about it, I think I will—tear it down, that is. Now is the time. I believe I’ll grab my crowbar and get started today. Now where is that crowbar? I may have to go to Home Depot and pick up a new one. But it is late in the day. Maybe tomorrow…

Jack Price (edited, as always, by Stacy Price)

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Jack Price is a friend of Larry. He is also the founder of PriceWrite Communications and writer of “Getting Started”, a free online newsletter dedicated to helping small business owners Stop Procrastinating and Get Started doing business on the web. Visit http://pricewrite.com/