Regulated Lifestyle

I live by my calendar, I confess,
So why is it always such a mess?

Day of Discovery

The discoveries continue. The calendar that Daughter gave Fio for Christmas, which she was in fear and trembling had gotten mixed in with some of the wrapping paper trash, was found hiding under the artwork Younger Son had given her. And that humongous bag of chocolate kisses, which Fio thought she'd given away to someone and forgotten about it, turned up in the master bathroom--on Fio's side, of course. The only thing missing now is her little black purse, although all its contents have been retrieved.

And, at three this morning, Fiorella woke up with a brilliant plan to jump start Son's art career.

Thomas Alva Edison, you have nothing on Fiorella Plum.

May Be or No

May has not been a good month for Fio. She got confused from the get go--probably all because of that missing thirty-first day. You already know she screwed up Sister-in-Law's birthday dinner, but what you don't know is that she also was almost late to Friend Joe's Pecos Bill shindig the next Friday, and that she thought last Saturday was the tenth, then that Sunday was the tenth, then finally discovered that Monday was it. Speaking of Sunday and Monday, she also got it into her head on Sunday that it was Monday and thus the Roloffs would be on at seven, which, of course, they weren't because it Sunday, not Monday--uhm, following all this?

Anyway, Fio, vowing reform, is continuously consulting her overloaded calendar and making meticulous lists of what each day entails.

Lessee now, where's that list go?