I think it's important as a writer--as a human being--to learn something new about yourself from time to time.
This week I learned that I'm anal retentive.
I love keeping a full calendar (jobs that ask if I've ever managed someone's calendar before make me smile, because I've been managing my own for so long that I have three different reminder apps on my phone depending on the type of event and whether or not there are any detailed specifics I need to know about it). Ask me to plan something and I turn into a coordinating fiend. Even when I was a kid, the games I preferred required more planning than physical action. (Everyone underestimates the values of Kamchatka and Egypt.)
But lately I'm discovering that a lot of my friends and family members are on the flaky side and tend to cancel meetups at the last possible moment. When I'm standing on their doorstep. After I've shifted some events around to accommodate them. Once I've started really looking forward to seeing them and have several updates in the kaffeeklatsch cannon ready to fire away.
And this drives me crazy.
I understand that circumstances change, but when you plan as far out ahead as I do, with the occasional intentional dead spaces just in case there's overflow, you can really sidestep a lot of unnecessary disasters. Something gets shifted a week ahead of time, and something else can fill the spot. But when time and time again I'm left the day before or 30 minutes before with a cancellation, I have a hard time shifting my mindset to do something else. That timespan sits open like a flayed pig roast, which demands to be noticed but also urges me to avert my eyes to avoid staring down what would soon be dinner.
The end result being, I've decided to take a break this weekend. I scheduled myself from Friday afternoon to Sunday night--just me and my projects. Not even dinner with the roommies.