Conspiracy Theory

Why is it that on the day you set aside, say yesterday, to prepare for a trip to, say Germany, the universe decides to conspire against you?

I set up a play date for Hayes with one of his best friends; the day before we are to play, we get a call that said friend is sick and we won't be able to play after all. Damn! I was hoping for that time to pack Hayes without his constant input. Oh well...I hope she feels better soon.

I oversleep and don't get the chance to do my morning journaling, which is a vital component to the Artist's Way. I'll just have to get it done later. By the way, this is always a bad sign for me, the get it done later thing.

I decide I had better get myself ready for the day. The toilet is in revolt -- 15 minutes of searching for the plunger and taking care of whatever disagreement the plumbing may have had, I am back to my morning routine.

Hayes and I are late getting to school because I forgot to ask him to pee and he decides he can't possibly wait until we get to school, so we stop at the Starbucks to take care of business. I have stopped feeling guilty that we don't buy anything as the line is far too long to wait in. Hayes realizes that we are late and he won't get time on the playground before the day begins. This causes tears and nail biting. I may loose my mind.

I arrive home with the intention to pack and get an anxious call from my husband -- would I please call the travel agent to get the overnight train tickets? I thought that was taken care of long ago. No, it's not easy to do it online. Fine, no problem, I can do it. Now we have to pay for overnighting them, but nonetheless, they are purchased and will be in hand.

In my packing frenzy I find the zipper of my new toiletry case is stuck -- filled with cotton to be precise, from the copious cotton balls I tried to stow in the upper compartment. My bad. I'll have to fix it when I get back from picking up the boy. I am late now, again. I hate to be late.

Hayes whines all the way home, as I have made the huge mistake of telling him there are some surprises for the trip to Baltimore. He needs to see them now; he must see them now. It seems as if his universe might cave in if he doesn't get the chance. Arrgh!

Finally a break! Hayes decides he will, in fact, take his Leap Pad to Baltimore. Thank heaven; it's the most versatile and fun toy we own.

The last load of laundry does get done and dinner is ready by 5:30 and it seems miraculous that I have packed for Hayes and myself today despite all the craziness surrounding us.

Tomorrow I am getting up on time.