"All these things I should keep to myself
But I feel somehow strangely compelled...."

- Neil Finn, Sinner

Grrr. My cell phone has gone missing. I only noticed Monday afternoon when it wasn't in its case on my backpack and thought then I'd left it on my desk. However, it wasn't there the next morning and searching through my backpack and lunch bag (ostensibly for lunch but winds up holding whatever I throw in it when I'm too lazy to stop and unzip zippers) produced a distinct lack of phone. Tried calling it in hopes of hearing it in a forgotten corner, but now it's rolling right into voicemail, so either the battery has run out or whoever picked it up turned it off. I hope I didn't leave on the bus. That means a trip to the transit authority office to check the lost and found, whether I did or not, I suppose. I'm not too upset about the phone itself; although it was fairly new, there's only $10 worth of time on it, so it's not like I'm getting ripped off there. I'm miffed I've lost the little glow-in-dark Naruto charm I got at Anime Expo last year and my little year-of-the-tiger charm. And I'll have to enter all those numbers over. Again, grrr.

So, the plan for this weekend is drop all three kids off at John's mom's Friday after work my dental appointment (need a filling), then head down to San Diego to spend the night, get up bright n' early and line up for ComicCon tickets before it opens; hopefully, there won't be some movie star or director as a guest. I'm remembering VT's horror story of several years ago where she waited in a line nearly a mile long for over three hours. We've been wanting to go for years and have just never made it down there. I have several friends who go for the whole weekend every year.

I am a total doofus. It's next weekend, not this weekend. I kept looking at the dates and it never registered that it was a still a week away until I went to the website, and it was flashing in big capital letters, "7 DAYS TIL...." Grr, and Connie's going camping next weekend. What is wrong with me?

After finding out about it more than a year ago, and occasionally going back and checking it out again and thinking, "yes, I probably need to do this," I gritted my teeth last night and joined FlyLady.

I will not do anything unless I have structure, which I find difficult to create myself. I'm tired of the CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome). John was pretty good at the housework, but got tired of getting yelled at (and, I admit, at least some of the grumpiness was from me, not just from my dad), so he quit. My problem is that I see everything as a giant mountain that I can't possibly conquer, so a lot of the time I don't even try, unless of course I get absolutely sick of something. I think it's worse than it's ever been.

I have not shined my sink yet, but I did do The 27-Fling Boogie before I left the house, even if it was just mail litter that hadn't made it to the trash can and not the 27-items-to-give-away part. And I did throw spend five minutes after lunch, putting and throwing away papers on my desk here at work. Actually my desk is semi-neat right now (there are only two piles, but they contain everything) because the director was supposed to show up last week (but never did).

Well. Baby steps, she says.

A lot of it is based on the Sidetracked Home Executives system my mom used back in the 80's (I used it myself for a little while, but I'm obviously a backslider). There is an awful lot about "Blessing your Home" that makes me a bit uncomfortable (so does the pink and purple color scheme), but if I can take "blessing" to mean "having a place to live that is comfortable, that doesn't make others uncomfortable when come in the door, AND makes it so I can easily find everyone clean underwear in the morning" then I suppose I can handle that.

I do like the fact that FlyLady is not just a frilly pink and purple homemaker. She is FlyLady because she teaches fly-fishing as well! You can see a little fishing rod under her arm if you look closely.

*soft snort*

I will try not to whine. I acknowledge that I quite often need a kick in the pants. Where the hell is my planner?