MRS WOOG IS NOT MARTHA STEWART
I have a secret. I harbor an imperfection.
Ok, let’s start again. I have MANY imperfections but there is one that presents itself almost every single day. I am disorganised.
Try as I may, I am just not one of those women who runs a smooth brain. Mine is akin to a Chinese laundry, with things flung everywhere and items going missing with regular regularity. I have always been a little scatterbrained, but as I get older, I sometimes surprise myself at just how easy it is for me to walk around with my head stuck firmly up my own anus.
Our family has a calendar. It is the Leunig Calendar, which comes free with the newspaper at the end of every year.
This is our social lifeline, when indeed we choose to write something on it. Which is hardly ever.
We have been known to be lazing around the house on the weekend when the phone rings. It is always someone asking whether we were planning to attend the BBQ, Engagement Party, Baby shower, Birthday party or other celebration which is currently on.
At that very moment.
It is not a comfortable feeling, blaming your partner for not putting the event on the “Calendar”.
Another really bad faux pas that can happen when you are disorganised is when you are talking to a friend on the phone and you say something like “Are you looking forward to your birthday?” and there is silence.
Because their birthday was yesterday.
And then there is the feeling of dread I get when I drop the kids off to school only to discover that it is Funny Hat Day, Mufti Day, Wear an Outfit From Your Cultural Heritage Day or the ultimate stuff up which I have also done – which is when you drop your kid off at school only to find out that it is a Pupil Free Day from the secretary who calls you mere minutes after driving away.
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