Ahead of My Time

It’s not that unusual to lose track of the time when faced with a full schedule. I’m rarely late for appointments, something I value in other people too. Given a choice, it’s better to lose track of the time when having fun. This week, however, I lost track of multiple appointments over a couple of days – and I certainly don’t remember having the fun part. One factor for my confusion likely was the sleepless night hobbling from one bed to a lounge chair to a second bed trying to comfort myself from a knee injury days earlier in the week. (I hate it when the parts get rusty.) Nonetheless, part way through the week’s schedule, my brain mysteriously shifted a week into the future.

Scheduling is only as good as recording and remembering.

The first appointment, attending a health workshop (so appropriate given my knee condition), seemed easy enough. It was to be held in a boardroom above a health food store. Though registration had been required, I entered the store to find no announcement of the session. When I asked a clerk about the workshop, she blankly stared back at me and said she’d be happy to lead me to the office upstairs and enquire there. I thought it a bit weird to cut through the delivery area and loading platform before being ushered to an empty second floor boardroom. At this point, being a solo attendee of a non-existent presentation was crossing my mind. To my embarrassment, I was asked to wait while a manager checked his computer for scheduling. Sure ‘nuf, the crazy lady (me) was a week early on the calendar – and I got the pleasure of hobbling down two flights of stairs and back to my car as penance for my stupidity.

A day of grace, or in my case, a day of clarity followed, leading me to think it was a simple lapse in notations between the wall calendar and my cell phone calendar. I kept my schedule on track and felt satisfied my to-do list was being shortened as it should.

It’s my core belief.

Weekends, unfortunately, have a way of going sideways without chore lists – especially when there’s the Saturday-only activities scheduled outside of work hours. Hubby and I had slotted some time at our local wine u-brew shop (a routine we plan about every few months to bottle a batch or two), sandwiched between three other morning appointments. Arriving on time at the u-brew, we were warmly greeted and asked if we were starting a new batch. No, Hubby replied, we were there for bottling our batch. I should have recognized the blank stare once again. Patting me on the shoulder, as if to say “Sadly, you are a dim-wit, and you’re a week early …”, the associate chuckled and told us of a similar scenario.

Right time … wrong date.

Apparently, there was an elderly gentlemen customer who routinely showed up one day late for his wine bottling appointments. The staff was flexible, but recognized his late routine and began expecting the patron one day after his scheduled time. It wasn’t until the elderly gent asked one of the associates if he had indeed been appearing one day late for his appointments for the last while, that it was discovered that the old fella had purchased a new watch and that the calendar on the watch face was set for one day behind the actual date. The incident had got quite a laugh with all the staffers at the shop. I, on the other hand, did not have a watch face to blame things on. Again, I felt embarrassed with myself.

Oh well, onto the next appointment. I was actually keen to connect with my massage therapist after the (no-show, no vino) bottling, and to work out some of the kinks in the joints. (The idea of using WD-40 lubricant spray wasn’t working for me.) Hubby took off in one direction to work on his to-do list, and I took off for some needed pummeling.

Some days are more confusing than others.

When I arrived at the massage clinic, I was greeted with a cheery hello and that curious blank stare yet again. Heavens, not again?! Yep, my appointment was next Saturday. I couldn’t bear to ‘fess up to the receptionist that I’d screwed up a third time. She was probably wondering why I was muttering and shaking my head as I got into my car and headed home.

Hubby thought it was all hillarious. As I buried my head into his chest, there were the predictable “There, there’s” followed by a “maybe you should get a coffee and rest awhile”. I felt like I should have an “If lost, please return to –” sign on my back. It’s the same idea as having those “idiot mittens” for toddlers (the mittens that are strung through the jacket sleeves by a long connecting string of yarn so kids can’t lose ’em).

So, yes, I was ahead of myself on the calendar, but my to-do list is still long, so I’m behind. I can’t wait ’til next week, when I get to have all those deja vu moments. Sigh.