I am not a spontaneous person. I’m a planner, a list-maker, a masterful orchestrated of to-do lists. So, when a friend texted that he had tickets to the IU-Louisville game, I politely but immediately turned him down. I had a mountain of tasks on my Saturday plate and I couldn’t possibly take four to six hours to attend a sporting event that could be playing on the TV while I graded papers/put up a Christmas tree/started holiday shopping/cleaned the house/did laundry/dominated in six games of Words.
I am also a penny-pincher who can’t pass up a good deal and am married to Mr. Impulsive, so when the next two lines of text came through – Free! and Parking pass! – Doo was easily able to convince me to smash that chore plate against our still-unstockinged hearth. Road trip!
Eight hours of fun later, we returned, with me in a snit. I was exhausted, my team had lost (go Cards!) and, most concerning, very few things were crossed off that list. Before I gave Doo reason to call a marriage counselor, I went straight to bed. My anxiety levels had beautifully crafted “It’s your fault” comments brewing way too close to the surface.
Feeling more positive the next morning, I decided to take my own advice. Students could wait on their essays, the floors could remain covered in a snow-ice-salt layer of filth, and the 12-foot mother of a Frasier fir could be erected later.
Life happens when it happens, and I don’t want to miss it because of a stupid, irrational idea that I can control the universe.
Note to self: Add “Be Spontaneous” to list.