I seem to live in every imaginable time frame except NOW.

I find myself saying, “One day I’m gonna do this,” or “some day I’m gonna do that. When it’s cooler I’ll go here or when it’s warmer (please no) I’ll get that done.”

All this putting off allows me to linger in suspended animation, in the present not accomplishing one blasted thing.

My to-do list got shorter for just a moment and then I began to add to it relentlessly. All the things on this list are things to do one day or someday.

I certainly hope I live long enough to get my future taken care of one chore at a time. It pains me that upon my death I will not be able to plan my memorial or handle any of the arrangements. That’s taking control to a whole new level, don’t you agree? I would at least like to consider a dry run.

I hesitate to call myself a procrastinator because that implies laziness. I am not a lazy woman. If the mood strikes me I can accomplish a great deal in a short period of time. Lately the mood rarely strikes or if it does strike, momentarily I have forgotten that it did.

Dear Don says I am akin to the Tasmanian Devil from old cartoons. I think maybe the implication goes a bit farther than the dust-laden whirlwind of the devil racing around about.

I hesitate to admit this but this character trait (or lack of) could be attributed to selfishness.

Perhaps I only want to do what I want to do when I want to do it.

I make my little lists and refer to them each day. That comforts me in a way that allows me to lazily postpone any real effort at achievements.

Wow, the more I write the dumber I sound. Perchance I should quit while I am ahead.

So on to this. A few weeks ago headlines were telling us that Sarah Ferguson, the former Duchess of York, had sold “access” to her ex-husband Prince Andrew for thousands of dollars. With the promise of a larger bounty with the actual access.

After realizing that she had been set up and filmed, she made the talk show rounds, talking about herself in the third person. “How sad she is,” the former Duchess touted. “I feel sorry for her.”

She had claimed to the reporter in the original setup that her husband was “whiter than white.” I think she meant that he was above board in his character and his business dealings. So I’m not sure what exactly she was selling. But the bottom line is she is and was very sorry for getting caught.

I will make this disclaimer here and now. For those of you who regularly read this column you know that I sell out my husband on a regular basis. I had no idea it could be such a lucrative endeavor. But still there are lots of things that I haven’t told you, many stories that are alarming and funny. Some could cause a wrinkled brow. If any of you wish to offer me $500,000 I will certainly consider telling you what I know.

But then on the other hand I do have to live with Dear Don as we have committed ourselves to one another through infinity.

Maybe if I promised him half the money I could persuade him to go along. We can always negotiate.

You get the picture.

(Contact award-winning columnist Sherry Hopkins at swhcsc@wildblue.net.)