Tomorrow I am having surgery on my ankle. At 7am. I don't know if there's really a way to be ready for this, but I know I'm sure as hell trying.
FACT: I am not an organized person. I am not the person you call when you can't find the syllabus, I am not the person who knows the date of the office party, I no longer wear matching underwear (I know, I said I no longer implying that at one point I did - IGNORE THAT), it will take me half an hour to find the receipt from that thing I bought last night.
And yet.
BEHOLD
I left work today with everything ready for my replacement and color coded by day. Seriously.
I will miss 10 days of work. For each of these days, and then some, I have an outfit (if you call pajamas and gym shorts and t-shirts "outfits") picked out. Including underwear. Ready. So that my husband won't have to ask me where these things are.
This may look like an ordinary closet, but do not be deceived. Here, hanging ironed and ready is every outfit I will need from the day I return to work until the end of the year. Oh yes.
And of course, there's the freezer:
The vat on the bottom shelf is homemade chicken stock which I've begged to have magically turned into matzoh ball soup. But the frozen meals include:
Turkey Chili
Enchiladas
Artichoke and Spinach Calzone
Macaroni and Cheese
Tofu Stuffed Shells - You are so happy I didn't give you the recipe for these, we're going to smother them in more mozzarella and tomato sauce and try to salvage them.
Meatballs - for meatball sandwiches
Pizza Dough - two balls
Sauce for Sausage and White Bean Pasta
And of course, you need frozen desserts too, like
Snickerdoodles
and Chocolate Chip Cookies (get your own recipe, I tried out Mark Bittman's recipe from How to Cook Everything and it ended in cursing. Needless to say, not impressed).
Ryan keeps pointing out that I'm not going to be in a coma for six weeks, I'll only be off my feet, but while I may not be an organized person, I can certainly admit, I may have a little problem with control.
3 comments:
You had me laughing out loud with each additional photo! Good luck tomorrow! I'll be thinking of you.
love, R
Problem with control? Nope. I don't see that at all. Not even a little bit. What problem with control?
Love,
It takes one to know one...
Where oh where on earth could you have gotten this little problem of control, eh? I have heard it may be hereditary but I will dispute that and so will your father!
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