Online medical information on aging and aging-related conditions.

Placeholder draft

Home is where the Procrastinaging™ happens.

Most of the work of putting aging off does not happen in a clinic or a gym. It happens between the kitchen and the front door, in the small, repeating rooms you already live in.

I have spent the last year asking older clients a slightly awkward question. Where, exactly, does your aging happen? Not in the abstract. In the literal house. Which room. Which doorway. Which chair.

The answers are very consistent. The bedroom, because of sleep. The kitchen, because of food and pills. The hallway between them, because of falls. And the chair in the living room. Always one specific chair. That is where the slow, quiet hours collect.

If we are going to take Procrastinaging™ seriously as a practice, we have to take the floor plan seriously. The house is where this all plays out. The Procrastinager™ is the person who helps you set it up.

The four rooms a Procrastinager™ pays attention to

1. The bedroom. Sleep is the first medicine. If sleep is broken, every other fix is renting a result that the bedroom is undoing for free.
2. The kitchen. The pillbox lives here. So does breakfast. So does the table, which is the social half of food. All three matter for more conditions than I can list.
3. The hallway. Lighting, rugs, and the path between bedroom and bathroom at 3am. Some of the cheapest fixes in medicine still happen with a roll of tape.
4. The chair. The quiet chair. The one with the best view of the television. We are not against it. We are against only it.

What this looks like in a consult

When a new client books a Procrastinaging™ consult, the second session is almost always a walk-through. Sometimes literally, by video. Sometimes by photo. We are not redecorating. We are checking the room. Where is the light. Where is the rug. Where is the pillbox. Where is the chair.

The most common Procrastinaging™ fix I suggest in year one is not a supplement, not a lab test, and not an MRI. It is a lamp.

The point is not to turn the home into a clinic. The point is the opposite. The home has been quietly handling about 90 percent of your aging on its own. Some of the easiest wins you will ever make are sitting in plain sight.

Three things to try this week

• Walk the path you take from bed to bathroom at night. Do it in the dark. List what is in the way.
• Open the cabinet where your pills and supplements live. If the order they are in is not the order you take them in, fix that today.
• Sit in the chair. Set a timer for one hour. Notice, honestly, how often it is two hours.

If any of this is interesting, the Procrastinaging™ practice runs private consults on exactly this kind of work. That covers the diagnosis and treatment of aging-related conditions, including the ones in your floor plan.

Originally published on Age Against Machine. Republished here with light editing for the Procrastinaging™ Journal.

Placeholder draft

Procrastinaging™. When procrastination is finally useful.

For most of your life, procrastination has been a vice. There is one situation in which it is, on the medical evidence, a virtue. This is that situation.

I want to be precise about a word, because the Patent and Trademark Office is making me be precise about it. Honestly, the precision is good for the practice too.

Procrastination, in the everyday sense, is putting off something you should be doing now. It is an act of avoidance, and it usually costs you. Procrastinaging™ is something else. Procrastinaging™ is the careful, evidence-based practice of putting off the symptoms, conditions, and habits of aging. We do this for as long as the science will let us. A Procrastinager™ is a consultant whose job is to help you do exactly that.

One word delays your taxes. The other can delay your heart trouble by, in some studies, a decade.

The case for putting one specific thing off

Most of what we call "aging" is a stack of conditions that mostly show up on a schedule. Memory shifts. The way your body uses food shifts. Mood and sleep shift. Your heart and blood vessels shift. They don't all arrive at once and they are not all equally avoidable. But a striking number of them respond, in real numbers, to small fixes. If you started those fixes ten years earlier, people would have called them paranoia.

The Procrastinaging™ practice is built on a simple, slightly contrarian belief:

The right time to procrastinate is not when something is due. It is when something is arriving.

What a Procrastinager™ actually does

This is the question I get most often, usually after the laughter. Here is the honest answer.

1. We diagnose. Real labs, real history, real medical review. Procrastinaging™ is not a vibe. It is a practice in the field of aging-related and psychological conditions.
2. We plan. A written, dated, six-month Procrastinaging™ plan. The plan is in plain language. You can show it to your doctor. You can show it to your spouse. You can show it to your CFO.
3. We schedule. Working sessions every two weeks, sixty minutes each. By telehealth or in person. The sessions are short on purpose. A Procrastinager's™ job is not to be your new hobby.
4. We measure. Every quarter, the same four questions. What changed. What didn't. What surprised us. What to do next.

Who hires a Procrastinager™

• People in their fifties and sixties who have noticed something, usually small, and would rather notice it twice than ignore it once.
• Adult children of aging parents who want a third party in the room.
• RIAs and family offices who have run out of things to optimize on the spreadsheet and have quietly started to optimize the person.

If any of those sound familiar, a 30-minute Procrastinaging™ consult is a low-cost way to find out whether the practice is for you.

Originally published on Age Against Machine. Republished here with light editing for the Procrastinaging™ Journal.

Placeholder draft

Reviewing my resolutions, checking in at quarter one.

A Procrastinager's™ year-in-review, performed at the right cadence: every ninety days, in writing, with a pen.

Most New Year's resolutions die in February. They were never resolutions. They were wishes dressed up in a January coat. A Procrastinager™ does not write resolutions. A Procrastinager™ writes a plan, and then reviews it on a schedule. This is mine, ninety days in.

What I said I would do in January

1. Sleep seven and a quarter hours, on average, on workdays.
2. Walk an hour outdoors before any screen, three days a week.
3. Lift twice a week. Real weight. Real form. No phone in the room.
4. Get the lab panel I have been putting off since 2024.
5. Talk to one client per month who is older than I am about how the second half is going.

What actually happened

Q1 is the cleanest report card a Procrastinager™ ever gets, because nothing has had time to drift. Here is the check-in.

• Sleep. Hit. 7h21m on workdays, on average. The fix was a single lamp on a timer, exactly as I prescribe in the home walk-through.
• Walks. Partial. Three days became two. The variable was weather, which I had under-weighted as a real medical input.
• Lifting. Hit. Two days a week, no exceptions. The phone-out-of-the-room rule was the unlock.
• The lab panel. Done in week three. Two numbers were boring. One was interesting. We are working on the interesting one.
• The client conversations. Hit, and the most valuable item on this list. Three of those conversations turned into the Procrastinaging™ practice you are reading.

What a quarter-one review actually does

The point of the 90-day review is not the grade. It is the second column. That is the one a Procrastinager™ writes next to every line: what to do next.

The Procrastinaging™ year is four chapters, not one. Most failures are written in the first one because nobody reads it.

If you would like the Procrastinager's template for a 90-day review, it is the first thing every private consulting client gets. It is also the spine of the Procrastinager's Toolkit cohort.

Originally published on Age Against Machine. Republished here with light editing for the Procrastinaging™ Journal.

Placeholder draft

Why a Procrastinager™ starts with sleep, not supplements.

Most aging-related decline begins with the eight hours nobody is paying attention to. A Procrastinager's™ first fix is almost always the boring one. It is also the most effective.

If a new client tells me, in the first session, that they are taking eleven supplements and sleeping six hours, I do not start with the supplements.

I start with the sleep. The supplements are renting an answer that the sleep is taking back every single night.

The Procrastinaging™ sleep audit

• Hours. Average over the last fourteen nights. Not the best night. The average.
• Time to sleep. How long it takes to fall asleep, in minutes.
• Wake-ups. Count, not length. Three is a number a Procrastinager™ flags.
• Light. First and last light of the day, in your eyes, on your skin. Most clients are getting almost none of either.

This is the cheapest, highest-signal piece of online medical information about aging I can offer in 400 words. The longer version is in the Procrastinaging™ workshops. The personal version is in the consult.

Placeholder draft

Procrastinaging™ your A1C. A six-week plan.

A plain-language piece of online medical information on metabolic aging: what an A1C number actually tells you, and what a Procrastinager™ does with that information.

Your A1C is not a grade. It is a rolling average. Roughly the last three months of your blood sugar, smoothed. A Procrastinager™ treats it the way a sailor treats a barometer: useful, slow, and worth checking on a schedule.

The six-week protocol

1. Weeks 1–2. Measure. Do not change anything. We are setting a baseline, not winning a race.
2. Weeks 3–4. One change, in the kitchen, at one meal. Usually breakfast. Always boring.
3. Weeks 5–6. Add a walk after the second-largest meal of the day. Twelve minutes. Outside, ideally.

This is not advice for any specific person. It is a template a Procrastinager™ would adapt for a real client, with a real doctor in the loop.