On how many separate occasions am I am going to drive right past my driveway, turning in a sad circle at the nearest cross street, before I start to pay attention? How many school events will I miss because I failed to attune to the weekly newsletter sent home with The Boss? How many friends' birthdays forgotten? How many vitamins missed?
Today a friend asked if I was planning to attend tomorrow's Parent/Child Night at The Boss's pre-school.
"What?" I asked.
"Parent/Child Night," she repeated.
"What?" I said.
"Don't you read the newsletter?"
"Didn't you see the sign on the door?"
In my written life, I'm more focused. I can edit myself...which I do, a lot. The results are not perfect, but they are usually not scattered the way my real life inspiration is. I remember things on the page. I am collected on the screen. I am careful. It's almost as if I'm a different person.
In the home and on the road and at various stops in between, I am all over the place. And it's usually not where I set out to be.