It’s quarter to eleven at night and I’m still muddling around on my netbook.
I’m getting on the plane tomorrow, early, and heading to Brisbane and the Gold Coast where I’m going to Problogger.
At least that’s the plan.
I hope like crazy that this actually happens, to plan after a week of surprising cock ups. Whenever there’s a lot of pressure to get things done, things get dropped. I stuff up. Usually with amusing results.
Like ordering 250 business cards, checking them three times, signing them off for printing and not realising they were missing something kinda vital until after they’d been printed.
No one needs a blogger’s email address do they?
In the second brainless stunt I found brilliant flights to Brisbane and after much nervous umming and ahhing I booked them. ‘Whew all sorted’ I told myself. And then I mentally patted myself on my back.
I am Superwoman! I am the Queen of cool, calm, organisation! The Queen!
My celebrations lasted for at least two days until I checked the actual schedule for the actual event and realised….
..I’d booked the wrong flights. Yup. I miss the whole first morning.
So today I wondered what the third thing would be.
What would I do? What could I actually do to beat the numptyish events of the past few stressed out weeks?
I wondered all the way to the local shops. I wondered some more as I picked out a slinky wrap cardigan to go over my Jasper Conran dress.
As I took the item number card for the changing room I stopped thinking about it. At all. I simply concentrated on quickly getting my gear off in readiness for throwing my dress on and sizing up the match between dress and wrap.
I don’t feel terribly confident about these things. I’m always the slightly awkward 13 year old standing naked in the dressing room. Under the interrogation of the fluorescent light.
As I reached for my dress from its bag, I pondered at how messy the room was. Obviously it had been a busy night at this Farmers store. There was stuff everywhere, no one had even bothered to tidy up.
I quietly tut-tutted as I hurriedly yanked off my leggings.
And as I stood there in my g-string my mouth fell open as the changing room door opened and a flustered older woman barged in.
“Oh, OH!” she blustered when she spied me standing in my bum floss.
“Didn’t you realise this room was taken?”
No, I was way too busy being the Queen of Careful Organisation.
What kind of numptyish things do you do when you’re a bit stressed?