This morning was one big To-Do list:
Make the bed. Check.
Clean up the living room. Check.
Get the clothes out of the dryer. Check.
Etc., Etc., Etc….
The routine has become somewhat comical because every morning, at some point, Tony will run frantically through the house looking for something:
“Where are my pants?” “Have you seen my keys?” “I had my credit card last night when we went to Blockbuster; where is it?” “Can you call my phone?”
Ocassionally, he is looking for all of these things at once AND some other random article like a receipt or his lunch cooler or his folder or his MEMORY. All of these things, as you might have guessed, are somehow things that I should have knowledge of. Because didn’t you know that I am his PERSONAL FRANKLIN COVEY? Anyway, I digress. Tony’s disorganizational skills are not the point of my tirade…
While the majority of my mind was still sound asleep, the remaining 25% was searching for Tony’s possesions. Mid-search, I hear, “Nik! We need to move the cars around! Can you come move your truck?” Okey-dokey, going to move the truck…
When I got outside to move the truck…”Can you help me take the rest of this garbage out?” Okay, taking the garbage out.
When I got back upstairs, I couldn’t remember where I was in my routine, so I picked up my eyeliner and just started lining. 20 seconds later, and I’m not joking when I say 20 SECONDS LATER the telephone is ringing. “Dammit, Tony, what NOW?!” But instead, I answer, “Hello?”
“Hi. I just want to tell you to make sure that the house is all closed up before you leave because-“
“I know. Okay.”
“And also I left the garage door open so don’t forget to close it.”
On the way upstairs I am mumbling, “Don’t forget the mascara. Mascara. Mascara.” So I put on the mascara and thought to myself, “There. I’m done. Time to leave. Windows closed? Check. Lunch made? Check. Breakfast? Check.”
As I was FINALLY leaving the house, I did not notice that while I was walking to my truck with my bag and my purse and my lunch and my morning bagel…that I was also walking to my truck in my flip flops. fuck. I turned around, went back inside, set everything down in the kitchen, went back upstairs to put on socks and shoes, went back downstairs to pick everything back up, and walked out to my truck cursing every. Breathing. Thing. To Hell.
On the drive in to the city, I felt myself calming down, drifting away from the To-Do list, when it hit me. Did I close the garage door? If I forgot to close the garage door, Tony is going to shit himself. Maybe I can just call and ask him to run home and close it since he works closer to home. No, he’ll still shit himself. But I’m already downtown! Shiiiiiiiit.
I turned around and drove all the way home (please note that it takes me 1 HOUR to get to work.)to see if THE FLIPPING GARAGE DOOR WAS CLOSED! And wouldn’t you know? It totally was. Because I am that efficient. And apparently I have acquired a mild case of OCD.
PS – Tony? You are making me dinner tonight.