A Case for Minions, or Is Mars in Retrograde?

I’m not even sure what Mars being in retrograde means but whenever I ask “Ever have one of those days where everything you touch falls or gets dropped?” that’s what people answer.

juggling-balls_webAnd yes, that’s me today. Heck, that’s been me the last five years or so. Okay, that’s my lame excuse for almost missing my blog post today.  But it does seem like I’m constantly juggling my schedule — and realizing I can’t juggle.

It’s weird because twenty years ago, I was working full time, shepherding our two sons to violin and guitar lessons, basketball games, Air Cadet meetings, and all sorts of other things, helping out at the church a couple nights a week as well as being a member  of the school PTA. And as I recollect I managed to get everything done without dropping many balls. (Okay, I must have the mind of an 8 year old boy because I just snickered “you said balls.”) Yet now I’m not working outside of the home, with one son moved out of the house and the other still living at home but he has his driver’s license so I don’t have to chauffeur him around, I’m finding myself feeling stressed and overscheduled. What’s with that?

Could it be that despite certain extended family members who insist that since I am home all day I do nothing, it’s that I have to write every day, and manage my website, and figure out promo for upcoming releases, and research and order swag for upcoming conferences and oh yeah, write (yes, it is worth repeating.)  Maybe.

Most ForgetfulI make copious notes on my phone to help me keep track. I post sticky notes all over my monitor, and there’s a paper to-do list right beside my monitor. Not to mention the numerous notes I’ve scrawled on a white board, and even programs that email me or text me as deadlines approach. And yet I still find myself distracted. Disorganized.

For instance, I meant to send my cover for No Accounting for Cowboys to Keri so she could load it on the site. The book came out in May. I’ve had the cover since…February? Yet it’s still waiting to be sent. I keep meaning to phone a handyman to fix the front porch — the posts holding up the roof of the porch have rotted and currently there’s literally nothing holding up the porch roof. Mom gave me the number of the guy she uses last month. Still gotta phone him before the roof comes down on some unsuspecting visitor’s head.  There are packages of swag to be sent to Portugal, swag to be ordered for a book signing in November, and for a conference in Ottawa next April. Oh and I still have to pay for my mail box rental renewal. And there was something else I had to do…sorry, can’t remember what it is at the moment.

Considering that I watched my father battle Alzheimers’ until four years ago, everytime I forget something I have this quick panic of “is this how it starts?” But to be honest, no, I don’t suspect Alzheimers. And while I could probably blame some menopausal hormones, and the pressures of deadlines, nothing I seem to do helps keep me organized.  I keep muttering to myself, and to my husband, that one of these days I’ll be able to afford a(n) minion assistant who can keep me on track.  Let me just write that down on a sticky note so I don’t forget…