Now that the calendar has turned, I’m already counting down to the new year. Not that I’m in any rush. Boomlennials do things just a bit slower, and that includes making plans. Or maybe that’s just me. Once that new physical calendar is on the wall, it looks lonely and bare. Like it wants my attention. But do I really want to give it?? New year, must start making those annual doc appointments. Knock knock. But, I need to pace myself. Find out one part is good, then reevaluate. Or screw the rest if it’s not. Even my Manfriend is breathing down my neck. And not in a good way. He likes to plan things. Nice things. For me. So why do I feel the pressure?? Pick pick pick. #whowhatwhenwhere #why Leave me alone. (Not really). Guess making decisions that are ‘optional’ just crowd me. In real life, I make lots-oh-decisions. Hard decisions. Important decisions. So important. So where to go for a birthday dinner just leaves me clawing and snarling. Poor Manfriend. Yet he persists. Snarl. Turn the month over. Must start making vacay plans. Book it! Turn the page. Going to a destination wedding. Book it! Turn the page. Years half over. See where I’m going with this?? Me neither. Just thought I’d enlighten you with my nonsense. It’s that dang calendar in the kitchen. Staring at me to give it some meat. I tried using an online calendar, but that did not work out. You actually have to open it and look at it. Which I did. Usually after the fact. So now I do both, and on a good day I show up where I need to, or decide it must not have been that important. Or panic because it was. Quit calling me! So here’s what I learned. Never take a dog named Shark to the beach.