Looking ahead to Lucas's entry into the public school system in a few short years, I've gotten involved in our local public school system. As such, I was invited by the principal of our local elementary school to join some parents, teachers and herself at a conference. I thought this conference was this Monday. Today. Last week, I arranged with work to switch around my days this week so I could attend. But by Friday, I hadn't received any of the details. Assuming that the teacher who was supposed to send them to me wasn't going to check her work e-mail over the weekend, I did a few google searches and found it on my own. I left the house early and walked in. But the conference wasn't there! Another (quite interesting looking) conference was taking place. I asked the concierge and they had no record of the conference I was attending. I stepped aside and looked back in my e-mail (yay! wonderful new phone!) and indeed, the conference is scheduled for the 20th! I tried to quickly slink away, but they followed up so I had to tell them my error. "See you in a few weeks!" they cheerily replied.
How did I miss that? HOW?
That feeling of embarrassment is a familiar one to me. I've done this before. On multiple occasions.
The time that looms most large in my head took place in 8th grade, a time when I had a very, very tenuous grasp on the outside edge of the "in" crowd. I'd been invited to a Halloween Party--a costume party--by one of the cooler kids. I had my costume all planned out, it was pretty cool, in my opinion, and on the appropriate Saturday night my mom drove me over.
As we pulled up, the house was completely dark, not a car in the driveway. I walked up and it took forever for someone to answer the door. Finally, the hostess's mom came to the door in her bathrobe! I was a week early and her daughter--thank the Lord--was at her father's house that weekend. Probably knowing that her daughter could sometimes be, how shall we say, not the nicest girl, she promised me she wouldn't breathe a word of this to her daughter. Luckily my mom is the type of mom who always waited in the driveway until I was safely inside, so she was still there to whisk me home. Where, I am sure, upon arrival I stormed up to my room to nurse my supreme feeling of dorkiness.
That Monday, I was terrified of being the laughing-stock of class. But my friend seemed none-the-wiser. Apparently her mom had kept her promise to me and had never mentioned it to her daughter. The next Saturday I donned a new costume (after all, the former was a bit tainted, don't you think?) and had a great time at the party.
That's me: Miss Right Place, Right Time, Wrong Day. No wonder I am such a freak about putting everything in my calendar!