In a rare move of foresight and planning (as opposed to my charming habit of procrastinating), I had planned this past Labor Day weekend full of all kinds of fun activities. I was giddy. I was excited. I was a woman with a plan. I planned it so far in advance, that I gave more than the requisite two weeks notice to my boss when I requested to have Tuesday off. What were my big, fancy plans?
I had planned it so we would stay home and relax for a couple of days when all those crazy Americans got on the road and started driving places. I got things to cook, sunblock and a list of undiscovered gems in our lovely city. We were to spend the Saturday and Sunday in San Diego, hosting possible visiting friends (who sadly did not visit), cooking, beach bumming, writing, etc. and then drive up to Santa Barbara early Monday morning. According to The Plan, we'd spend the night in SB, drive to Los Angeles on Tuesday, explore a few places and attend The Moth event in the evening.
Cool plan, huh?
Sunday morning, I was on the phone, casually telling my friend about what I had planned, how we'd drive up the coast, maybe visit a winery or two, find a little place to stay and hang out in ...
"What's that look for?"
I had to ask, because M was looking at me with a blank expression. It seems, in addition to having a plan, I also have a husband who is more forgetful than I am.
"Why are you telling her we're going this weekend?"
"Because we are. Remember? The Gmail calendar I created so we could both check schedules and plan things? Santa Barbara, Los Angeles, The Moth...The time I took off of work..."
Blank look continues. I apologized to my friend and told her I had to go.
So it seems there was a slight miscommunication, misunderstanding or some other kind of mystery involved. He was pretty sure I had never mentioned all of this for this weekend, and I had all kinds of stuff to show that I had. It seems while I envisioned a nice little getaway in quaint SB, my husband had planned to train someone on a scientific something or another.
C'est la vie.
We still had a lovely weekend, we saw Santa Barbara (briefly) and attended The Moth--just not as I had planned.
I'll write more about what we did in a different post. But before I end this post, I did want to say, I have VERY good reason for not planning trips and events. It is not because of my unfortunate and undeserving reputation as a procrastinator. It is because even when I plan, nothing works the way I envisioned it.
Sometimes, that is a good thing.