Last week Heather invited me to be her guest at a blogger event. Wednesday morning she texted me to let me know that she was stuck in traffic and would be about 20 minutes late to the event.
"Hm," I thought. "Isn't the event Thursday?"
Confusing both myself and Heather, I confirmed via the invite that she was indeed correct. Thankfully the event was up the road, in Malibu, so I was able to pull myself together, head out the door, and arrive just moments after she did.
Later that day, Hilary sent a note to a group of us who'd planned dinner next week, sadly bowing out because of a work conflict.
"Funny," I replied. "I thought we had planned it for Thursday, not Wednesday."
I admonished myself for screwing up the days for both of these events, but shrugged it off.
This weekend I got Em all excited to celebrate her friend's 3rd birthday on Saturday. I knew the party overlapped with Em's usual 1-3 p.m. nap, and for whatever reason, I assumed it started at 2.
You know what they say about people who assume.
After brunch, I checked the invite and saw that the party was, in fact, from 11 a.m. - 2 p.m.
It was 11:30 a.m.
I hurried Em and myself into my car, made the 15-mile drive to Torrance, and then wondered why there were so few cars at a party that started an hour ago.
I looked at the invitation and saw that the party was THE NEXT DAY.
I sped away, fast as lightning.
Em was pissed, pouty lip and everything. I had talked up a party with one of her best toddler friends, and in her eyes, I wasn't letting her celebrate. She didn't understand nor probably care that her mommy, who's usually the queen of our social calendar and prides herself on punctuality, has had a hard time getting it together lately because she's so preoccupied with getting ready for our move.
Brent and I have been literally neck-high in moving boxes as we prepped our condo for open houses and showings. We filled a 10-foot U-haul truck with bookshelves, chairs and boxes to keep at my in-laws' in the name of showing our condo at its best.
I'm a night owl who hasn't been able to keep my eyes open past 11, napping 1-2 hours when I can, too.
The fog in my brain is finally starting to lift, thankfully.
Despite being so out of it, my friends and I had a hearty laugh at the actual party on SUNDAY. And I'm considering tattooing upcoming events to my forearm a la Guy Pierce in Memento. It may be the only way I'll get there on time.