Lately I’ve been making a concerted effort to be more organized. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I blame it on going looney every year between Christmas and the end of February.
A few weeks ago Miss C brought home a report assignment for African American History Month. Even though she had a week and a half to complete the report I went ahead and helped her with it so we wouldn’t be doing it the night before it was due.
I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.
The next Saturday rolled around and I was clearing off our breakfast bar (i.e. the International Dumping Ground) and thought enough to go ahead and put Miss C’s report sheet in her blue vinyl homework folder in her backpack. And I couldn’t find it. And I just knew I’d laid it out on the breakfast bar in the “needs immediate attention” pile, which is, unfortunately, right next to the “ignore for 6 months” pile.
I looked everywhere—on my desk, in the trash, and still couldn’t find the #@$%# report so I called and left Miss C’s teacher a message. The next day the hubby was cleaning out his car and walked in with a sheet of paper. “Does Miss C need this?” he asked.
YES! It was the report.
Miss C’s first soccer game was Saturday and an hour before the game I started getting her ready to avoid a last minute scramble. I couldn’t find her #$@@%# jersey. I looked everywhere. Finally I remembered that I’d put it in an under the bed storage bag and it was folded neatly on top of her out of season clothes. Once again my desire to be organized completely confused me.
Yesterday was day four of Miss A being sick (God please don’t let her have the flu) and we were home all day so I started putting things aside for our spring break trip to Sandestin.
I’m stopping myself from doing any more pre-packing, though, because I’m afraid I’ll jinx myself again. I’m just going to pack like a man and wait 30 minutes before we hit the road.