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Schedule? What Schedule?

This morning I made the comment that my schedule exists primarily to be messed up. I was joking, kind of, or at least not upset about it at the moment. I am trying to learn.

Today should give me plenty of opportunities. My computer continues to behave in the mysterious ways of computers. I called on the expert who happens to sleep next to me, so it may behave better in the future. At least I hope so. But while he was typing love notes or spells or whatever it is he does in his little boxes, I was not writing like I normally do.

I’m somewhat confident that the writing festival part of my day will go according to plan. The schedule will, anyway.

Syd and T.R. have camp and I am picking them up at 3:30. After that, I am either taking Syd to a friend’s house and hanging with T.R. for a while, or taking them both out to Concord to hang out until Syd has a board meeting this evening. Theoretically, Syd will text me the actual scoop this morning. (In an aberration from his usual schedule, he was asleep when I called him at 10:30 last night, a time at which I’m usually asleep and he’s up doing whatever it is he does. My excuse was that I was at a play until then. Syd’s friend has my phone number confused with his and so I wanted to pass on the voice mail I got.)

In an earlier series of calls with Syd, I was castigated for some nebulous infraction against Syd’s idea of who was responsible for what in making him an appointment with a doctor. Since the parties involved are Syd, Syd’s dad, and me, I am confident that I am the least likely to have dropped the ball, so I was not happy about the treatment. It’s one more thing to put on the schedule somewhere.

Of course, that is subject to change without notice.



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