Monday, July 9, 2012

Not on my schedule

When I get anxious I organize.

I'm not a naturally organized person.  I don't see life in black/white, right/wrong, yes/no.  When a gal's perspective is so grey,  it's hard to choose what goes in which file or gets stashed in what box. But I envy those who can.

I often recall a friend whose mother organized her closet when we were in junior high. She had little labels that separated the types of clothes.  Plus, they were categorized by color.

At the time, I thought that might be what everyone else's mom did.

As a mother of two, too-soon-to-be inquisitive tweens, I marvel at my mom's restraint when I asked her why my closet wasn't like my pals.

My spirit was calmed in the order of it all.

So I began picking up my mom's Family Circle and reading each month's ideas on organizing the life I didn't have yet.

As a child, extra-curricular activities filled my calendar.  I color coded it so my parents could read it easier so they'd know when and where to drive me. In college, I realized I had to create a calendar for me. As a teacher, I scheduled every minute of the hour. Sure, we might end up spending 22 minutes on an item I'd planned spending only 3 minutes on, but it was a nice guideline.

Yeah, yeah, yeah:The best laid plans of mice and men.... I know you can't prepare for everything but trying and failing sure beats living with the regret of not trying at all.
A schedule is a lifejacket in the unexpected storms fate throws my way.

My calendar-keeping gets on some people's nerves.  And I could spend lots of time fretting about it. But you know what?

It's not on my schedule.

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