My calendar is filled with color-coded schedules for each member of my family. Without this I would be as lost as a Spanish-speaking traveler in China. I began the year with my pink pen highlighting the days I would devote to writing. Not only would this be a prominent message to my family that I would not be accessible to them during this time, but it would also be a reminder to me not to schedule anything else on these days.
With the holidays over, I was anxious to follow my plan. A week into the New Year, I woke up sick and spent the entire day in bed. Not part of my plan to become sick. Scratch out my writing day. Five days later, sickness attacks me again. Really? I don’t believe I was sick all the previous year, and I’ve been hit twice already? My plan is not coming to fruition. My goals are glaring at me, wondering why I haven’t done anything. My hubby tries to remind me that goals are not supposed to be like Nazi’s, ruling your life. He doesn’t know my goals!
Week two arrives and so does wonderful winter snow cancelling school for two days. That’s just terrific, I complain to the air. Writing day cancelled again. I confess I can’t moan about sleeping late for that’s as pleasant as sipping my Starbuck’s Marble Mocha Macchiato. But, entertaining a 9 year-old and a teenager? My plans didn’t include that.
I’m prepared for week three…two days off school for a holiday and a teacher in-service day. It sure seems like we could’ve used those days to make up the two snow days from the previous, but no one asked me for my expert opinion. I’m not too upset, however, because I anticipate my writing day coming barring another snow storm or sickness.