I took to this planner thing like a duck to oil.
Dammit, I did the thing again. Let me back up.
For ages now, I’ve been listening to others extol the virtues of paper planners. My blogger and writer friends (a supportive bunch to whom you owe every word I’ve given you these past years, because without them I’d have burned the towel long before throwing it in) claim planners are an invaluable tool for “getting your shit organized,” a thing which I do not do but have always wanted to try.
And then, one fine day… Husband let me go to the craft store unsupervised. Worse, he sent me with my friend K, whom you will recall is basically me only shorter.
K: Oh my god, they have these planners! And they’re 70% off! (brandishes planner)
ME: Oh… kay?
K: You don’t understand, these are life.
ME: No… they’re planners.
K: But look! You can add pages, and switch things around, and there’s tabs, and (blathers on)
ME: They’re planners. It’s more work, more stress, and… honestly, I know some people swear by them but they just don’t work for me.
K: (already shopping) I need a new one anyway…
ME: Good lord, what is all this?
K: This is how I get my life organized!
ME: (whips out phone) This is how I get my life organized. And it’s always in the same font, the same color, and I can change shit without crossing it out.
K: I hear you. But I need it in book form. Plus (grabs smaller package) STICKERS!
ME: What are you, four?
I was feeling pretty good about myself, with my calendar and my note apps… but then this other woman came along, and the two of them started talking planners and I was bored.
I started looking at planners.
The inevitable happened.
First off, to everyone who ever suggested planners before only to be rebuffed: you didn’t tell me about fluffy pens and glitter. This only proves that you don’t know me at all, or didn’t really care. Fluffy pens were clearly the way to sell this thing.
Second: it’s already going about how you’d expect for someone who can’t keep a diary because my handwriting from page to page doesn’t match and it throws me off, and losing the pen I started with means the whole thing’s wrecked.
HIM: (sighs the sigh of the Lifer)
ME: (charges into office covered in correcting tape) I’ve spent the last 20 minutes trying to fix this (thrusts mangled tape applicator for inspection) because I wrote a thing on the wrong date. I don’t think planners are for me.
HIM: (inspecting heap of 99c plastic) Yeah, that’s not fixable.
ME: Well not now!
HIM: What do you expect me to do about it?
ME: (whimpers) So sticky…
HIM: (picking mess out of my hands) So you came upstairs to find the nearest adult because your hands were sticky? What are you, four?
Don’t worry: I bought two fluffy pens.