Thit is a fine metaphor of my life. It's kind of all there, together, but kind of not quite as efficient as it should be. I am Type-B. A Type-A's nightmare.Here is my sad sad tale.
I have been asked to chair several committees at school, over the years. I know myself well, and have protested these requests. But being a push-over, I found myself - chairing - I missed the first two meetings . . . just forgot all about them. The second time I chaired, I thought I was co-chair and things got ugly. Finally, this year, I was cajoled, yet again, to chair - this time - the Art Fair.
THIS time would be different. I would be responsible. I would check my calendar every morning. I would be a type-A chair person. I even went so far as to e-mail the art teacher in November to inform her that I would be her chair.
That was November.
Now it's April. I went to conferences the other night at the school and walked into . . . guess what - The Art Fair. It had somehow gone off without me even knowing it was happening.
gulp
One good friend reassured me after I called her in hysterics, "Hey, look at it this way. At least you showed up to your own event."
Yeah. By accident.
Another helpful comment: "Well, now. Maybe they will finally stop asking."
Hmph.
Oh well. I've got my loves to keep me warm:
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