I am over-calendared.
Handmade on dresser in bedroom. Daytimer on chest of drawers in bedroom. Birthday calendar in studio. Daily holiday calendar in studio. Calendar on refrigerator. Lighthouse for the Blind calendar in the breakfast room. Calendar on my phone. And two calendars at work (one on Outlook, one on Teams – these two are not by choice).
Two weeks ago, I took a day off work to get the house picked up and cleaned a bit because my friend from Madison was coming for a weekend visit on April 8. First houseguest since before pandemic. On Wednesday I texted her about what kind of milk she likes so I could order the right thing from my milkman. Then on Thursday, I texted her about what she wanted to do for dinner once she arrived. This text she answered a little distractedly that we could work that out later. Then on Friday, knowing that she was coming from Rochester (follow up medical stuff), at 5 p.m. I texted her to see if she had left for the Twin Cities yet. About 2 minutes later the phone rang. When I answered, she said “May 13.” Took me just two seconds to scroll back to the very first text about her visit. May 13.
I’m still not sure how my brain translated May 13 into April 8. All I can think is that I was looking forward to her visit so much that my gray matter shoved it up a month. For someone who has 9 calendars, it’s a little embarrassing.
If you were stranded on a desert island, how would you keep track of time? (Or would you?)