You know how I’m the editor of a website? A paperless website? So I really should be electronically savvy?
I don’t have a diary. Of any sort. Not on my phone. Not on a hard-copy calendar. Not on the computer. Nowhere.
My diary is my brain. And it’s letting me down.
On Saturday night I got a voicemail message from a friend. I listen to my voicemail messages around once in a blue moon so I ignored it. Then I missed another call from him the next morning. So I figured I should ring him back and see what the problem was. He said: “I left you a voicemail.” And I was like: “I never listen to my voicemails.” And he was like: “So, are you guys coming over for lunch today or what?” And I was like: “What???”
Apparently he’d texted me and organised for us to have lunch on the 20th. I have absolutely no recollection of that text conversation or my affirmative reply. Awkward. Because we couldn’t make it. We were travelling en masse to the Central Coast to help clear out the last of Husband’s grandfather’s possessions and were unavailable for social events.
Good excuse, I know. But kinda destroyed by the fact I had bailed on the same friend less than a month ago. Some terrible excuse that time as well that I can’t remember.
I also turned up to a cafe in Camperdown a few weeks ago a whole month early. I called my friends to ask why they weren’t there. Again, awkward.
Yesterday morning I got a call from the deputy principal of the kids’ school. The eldest was supposed to be at swimming school but had arrived without any of the necessary accoutrements.
I was car-less due to Husband being on the Central Coast again for a bit more house emptying.
Cue panicked call to a saviour school mum who drove past and collected a backpack of swim stuff from the verandah for me.
I am thinking a better form of diary keeping is in order. But I do not entirely trust myself to do the slightest thing about making it happen.
Take my frantic scramble to find my car/house keys every day. I mentioned on the iVillage Facebook page a few months back that I lose them every single day. It was suggested that I have a key bowl or a key hook or something. Yes, yes. But it never happened.
So don’t bother admonishing me over the needing a diary of some sort thing. Because I KNOW, I KNOW.
Self-sabotaging. Has to be.