It's called a calendar

Yesterday, 9:15 am, the phone rings.

"Good Morning, Ellen, this is Bette-Lou from the Historic Macon Foundation. I just wanted to confirm with you that the spouses of Mercer's Board of Trustees will be touring your house at 9:30 am tomorrow."

"Um, (internal dialogue: crap, what, oh no, I thought that was the 25th, not the 18th) of course Bette-Lou, it's our pleasure. I look forward to seeing you then."

......

Twenty-four hours later twenty woman traipse through my house. They marvel at the cleanliness of the kitchen, and I joke "that happened just ten minutes ago." I wasn't really joking though.

......

My parenting style, some would say lifestyle, can be a little fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants. There are some ways in which I am highly scheduled; Julia always gets her naps on time. However, the other events of our lives often occur at the last minute. I do a bit of scrambling. I've given up the dream of being a highly organized and efficient task master. There's always a bit of chaos in my house.

Not that you would necessarily know it. Craig and I are neat-freaks, and Craig in particular worries a lot about appearances. I suppose then a better term to describe our living situation would be "highly managed chaos" or "polished disorder". In any case I think yesterday's turn of events should give me some pause.

It's called a calendar, Ellen, get one!