There’s a wonderful show on the BBC called QI – which stands for Quite Interesting. I’ve seen many clips from it on Facebook and I would love it if BBC America would pick it up as it as an absolute hoot. Not wishing to do a Scarlet O’Hara, I have done today which I could’ve put off till tomorrow and have emailed this very question to the channel to find out if it will ever be shown here. I will keep you informed.

One of the episodes dealt with procrastination, and I discovered from this most educational program that there is a Procrastinators’ Club of America in Philadelphia, established in 1956, a membership to which will cost you $20. This gets you access to its monthly publication entitled ”Last Month’s Newsletter” which lists “upcoming events that have already taken place,” which tickles my funny bone enormously.

The club celebrates Christmas in June, Independence Day in January, and its motto is “Behind you all the way,” It ran a campaign to get President James Buchanan re-elected, despite the fact the guy died in 1868. I just adore the whole idea of this institution.

Just as I knew my darling Sir would love a membership in the Coober Pedy Golf Course in Australia – if you recall, a golf course in the middle of the desert with not a blade of grass to be seen – I just know he would be a prime candidate for membership in the Procrastinators’ Club.

He is Procrastinator Supreme, the Grand Poohbah of Putting Things Off. He can talk about getting a haircut for weeks before achieving one. Last spring he kept telling me he was going to go out and get a rain gauge, and so it was in September that I asked him for one for my birthday. We now sport an extremely cheap and cheerful rain gauge out back – I think it ran him $4.95 – but at least I curbed the procrastination, which you may not be surprised to know drives me to absolute distraction.

This year, he’s had the pain in the very lower back. Just high enough not to get terribly personal – imagine you’ve ever encountered a bent-over plumber, if you will catch my drift, but I digress.

I believe if my memory serves me correctly he’s had this pain for approximately six weeks. Has he seen a doctor, a chiropractor or had a massage? Oh heaven forefend. This would’ve required action, an anathema to a procrastinator. No, he’d rather shuffle around to the extent I’m tempted to go out and hire him a walker for heaven’s sake.

He mentally got off his bum this week though, and went to see an osteopath, and I asked him to let me know how the appointment went.

From a text, and I quote: “Pulled muscle in back.Man flu. Not a word.” Naturally, rocking with laughter, I texted back a number of emoticons to him.

The doc prescribed some exercises, an anti-inflammatory cream, ice packs and heating pads. I can see that regimen lasting approximately 12 hours at which point he will declare it a waste of time as it just doesn’t work.

Besides which (she said with gritted teeth) “I’m playing golf with the boys tomorrow.”

So if you hear of an Aussie going all a bit Mrs. Tiger Woods on him with a nine-iron, you’ll know it was me.

Annie Dear lives in Lee’s Summit. Email her at