Linking up with Five Minute Friday!

The word for today?

PLAN.

Huh. As in… “That’s not part of the?”

Show of hands, momsies: How many of you sooooo like to have a plan?

I cart around with me a very ratty, scribbled mess of a spiral notebook that I use as a planner. It’s not pretty. It doesn’t have nice pockets or cute script or even a place to store stuff. But this system has worked for me for over… well, since high school.

I like to call the spiral: Master Control.

Lord help me if I ever lose it. I might not be able to dress myself.

I love to have a plan. I have lists, ya’ll. Lists OF lists. I have maps that explain the contents of closets. I have a daily cleaning chart, AND daily breakfast chart, AND I’m pretty sure I have a chart of my charts. It is also possible that at one point and time I scheduled, um, special time with the hubster. Like, I PUT IT ON MY MASTER CONTROL.

I did use code for it, but still, it was there, in pink sharpie.

(Total tangent: Once, my sweet Red walked in on me and the hubster starting in one negotiations for special time. Now, let me be clear: we were not hitting the Rated R late night viewing category yet, not even close. At this point, we were still in pre game talks and it was all rather PG. Anyhow – Red walks in, I squeal, this confuses Red a lot because squealing is not really my thing – I don’t do it often and now, I SWEAR, someday when he really GETS what was going on in our bedroom he’s gonna think= squealing, and it’s all my fault. Hubs, of course, is totally non-plussed because he NEVER gets PLUSSED about anything, and calmly says: “Hi Red. Mommy and I were just wrestling.”

Sooooo…. then Red goes to His Kids the next night and the teacher asks: “What are some things your parents do around the house?” and Red says, “Sometimes my mommy and daddy like to wrestle.” And from there I don’t know but THAT comment sure leaves a lot of room for interpretation… But if you’re me, you interpret it the saucy way because you are immature and a bit off kilter.

Anyhow. I will never make eye contact with his teacher again.)

Where was I?

Oh, having a plan. Sharpies. Lists. Plans are my happy place.

Except, once in a while, when they are not.

For some reason, every once in a while, my Master Control gets put away. I lose the box of sharpies. I take a break from The Plan.

Because, I don’t know… my brain says, “Wing it, Momsie. Live. Throw caution to the wind! Use glitter! Don’t color code your linen drawer. At least not today! Just for today? Un Plan!”

And I do. For an undetermined amount of time, for an unknown reason, and with really unimaginable results, I go all willy-nilly.

Now, granted, I do make sure to, like, wash underwear and cook things to eat (although frozen pizzas do turn up often), and I even remember to floss in there. Sometimes.

Otherwise? I am prancing about, all nutty and free, and it’s great. My life is like a big handful of confetti, thrown to the wind, and fluttering about.

And my house becomes a total mess. “Look at my house!” I think. “It’s a total mess!” And then I flit off to not do anything important. I read in bed. I drink coffee at three pm. Sometimes I read IN bed AND drink coffee. I am an animal!

And then, one morning, I wake up and think, “All right. Enough of this crazy talk, where’s my scrub brush?” And I go hunt down my sharpies, find them in some random drawer, clutch them to me and lisp, “MY PRESHUS” and I’m off and running with Master Control again.

I call it The Every Once in a While, Kinda Loosey-Goosey, No-Plan, Plan.

And it works for me.

And by the way? You can actually Plan too much. See below. Can you imagine what the woman is thinking in the picture? I can. But I can’t state it here because it’s not that kind of blog.