“Tomorrow is often the busiest day of the week.”

–Spanish Proverb

When I jumped into bed a week ago, I was ever so eager to get going on the post that you’re reading right now. Trust me, though, I was ready to hop right back out again when I realized that I didn’t have the foggiest idea what I was going to write about. Normally, that’s no big deal. Almost always, I have lots of ideas in various stages of development. So, I simply did what I have often done in the past. I opened my posts and started scrolling through the drafts. One by one, I dissed ideas that had once upon a time captured my fancy. I found myself saying over and over and over again:

“Not in the mood.“

Even if you’re not a writer, you know as well as I that “Not in the mood ” translates to “It ain’t gonna happen. Forget it.” It means that even if it doesn’t begin with, “Honey, not tonight.“

I’m not sure why I wasn’t in the mood. Maybe I was drained from the New Year’s and Christmas celebrations that I myself had desired.

Then, just when I was ready to put off the post until tomorrow, I saw a draft that looked inviting because of its downhome and simple title: “The Concept of Tomorrow.”

“Perfect. I can run with that idea.”

I opened the post and nearly jumped out of bed for a second time in as many minutes.

All that I had was the title. It was so lame that I couldn’t even call it a title. I might be generous enough to call it an ill-formed topic. Whatever it was, it had no notes. Not one word. Nothing.

My mind chatter started replaying in loop mode what I always tell writers:

“Whenever you have an idea, capture as many details as possible so that it will seem fresh when you return, even if you return a year later.”

Obviously, I had not followed my own writerly advice. I lay there in bed, silently lecturing myself while staring at my blank WordPress page.

Then I had a flashback. I remembered what prompted the initial idea. I needed to do something, and I had the time to do it right then and there, but I wasn’t in the mood to do it right then and there, so I decided that I would do it tomorrow. I’m all too familiar with the all-too-familiar line:

“It can wait until tomorrow.”

Well, why not? If Scarlet O’Hara can get away with it in Gone with the Wind, so can I:

“I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.“

Ironically, even after having those course-correction thoughts about Scarlet and about what I tell writers they need to do when they have an idea, I went right ahead and became a to-morrower anyway. But not without immediate reprobation.

In that same instant, I kicked my Jackass self with all four hooves because I am not by nature a to-morrower.

“Yes. To-morrower is a bona-fide word.”

“Say what?”

“I did not make that up. I can prove it.”

I’m tempted to wait until tomorrow to find my proof, but, on second thought, I’ll go ahead and find it today. I just checked the Oxford English Dictionary (OED). To-morrower is defined as “a person who puts matters off till tomorrow; a procrastinator.” The word was first used in 1810:

He [sc. Thomas DeQuincey] is as great a To-morrower to the full as your poor Husband. S. T. Coleridge, Letter c14 April (2000) vol. III. 804

So, there’s my proof. I can’t do it right now, but tomorrow, I will do further research to find out more about Coleridge’s letter. He is certainly bad mouthing somebody’s husband, and I’m dying to know who, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. For now, let me note that the word was not used in print again until 1880:

“The Postponer, The Deferrer, or, as we might say, The Tomorrower (G. Meredith, Tragic Comedians vol. II. vi. 96)

Even without waiting until tomorrow to decide, it is very clear to me today that to-morrower is never used in a complimentary way. But actually, it sounds more flattering than most of its synonyms that were bantered around before and after 1810:

● tarrier (1382)
● delayer (1509)
● postponer (1533)
● prolonger (1548)
● proroguer (1551)
● deferrer (1552)
● waiter upon God (1592)
● procrastinator (1607)
● temporizer (1609)
● protractor (1611)
● retarder (1644)
● cunctator (1654)
● adjourner (1738)
● postponator (1775)
● putter-off (1803)
● offput (1856)
● shelver (1881)
● staller (1937)

I don’t know about you, but I don’t like any of those synonyms except for, maybe, “waiter upon God.” It could be a perfect job title, fleshed out as follows:

Job Description: “Ready to trade your earthly apron for angelic wings? We’ve got the gig for you – ‘Waiter upon God.'”

Qualifications: 1. Angelic patience (Mortal patience won’t cut it.) 2. Ability to stay cool under Divine pressure. (3) Must be willing to wear a halo.

Benefits: (1) Job security: God doesn’t do layoffs. (2) Direct hotline to the Divine HR. (3) Unlimited access to Divine WiFi.

Targeted Candidates: Prophets, miracle-workers, and those with an affinity for clouds are ideal candidates. Apply tomorrow and start your cosmic career the day after.

I don’t need to wait until tomorrow or the day after to know how I feel about some of the other synonyms. For me, words that I use need to roll off my tongue easily, leaving behind a good, smooth mouth feel. I challenge you to say aloud proroguer or cunctator. If you can even pronounce the words, I’ll guarantee you that they will not roll off your tongue easily. As for mouth feel, you’ll probably feel the need to wash your mouth out. If I were you, I wouldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Then there’s postponator. What a silly looking word. I’ll wait until tomorrow to check it out in the OED. Surely it was used in jest. I couldn’t wait until tomorrow, so here’s what I just found about postponator. Thank God! The word appears to have been used only once and that was way back in 1775:

Rawlins postponator declares the resolution not proper to proceed from the Committee of South Carolina.

While I was checking the OED, I decided to go ahead and get the low down on shelver. I know that it has absolutely nothing to do with returning books to a library shelf, but that’s what it ought to mean. Don’t you agree?

Eight sheluers, which pulled downe the courts [= carts] as they came to the place where it was needfull to vnlode. (A. Fleming et al., Holinshed’s Chronicles (new edition) vol. III. Contin. 1544/2)

I am awfully glad that I looked. I am certain that the OED editors made some kind of mistake when they included shelver in the historical thesaurus for to-morrower. Tomorrow, I shall reach out and let them know the error of their ways.

Up until now, I had been worried about using to-morrower in the title of this post. But having perused the alternatives, I like it a lot. It’s as good a way as any to feel less guilty about putting off until tomorrow what I could have done the day that I put off exploring the concept of tomorrow. Plus, I believe fully well that Scarlet herself would approve of my title. No doubt, however, she wouldn’t let me know until tomorrow, which will be too late because by then, I will have published this post.

As I touch type the final words on my smartphone, I raise my nearly empty Bunnahabhain (empty glass, mind you; not empty bottle) to all the tarriers, delayers, and even the occasional shelver. In the fast-fading fabric of word time, we are but mere stitches, weaving our stories one postponed task at a time. So, here’s to the to-morrowers, the champions of “It can wait until tomorrow,” because sometimes, tomorrow is just a delay away from today.

And with that, Dear Reader, I leave you until tomorrow or until I’m in the mood (but not tonight, honey). In the meantime, may your days (and nights) be filled with lots of in-the-moods, delightful detours, and amusing delays. After all, why rush today when there’s always the sweet promise of tomorrow? Cheers to the art of postponement!

Until then, I remain ever so faithfully yours (but not until tomorrow’s sunrise or, at least until tomorrow’s to-do list demands my attention)–

Your Wired To-morrower.