oh, boy...

Yesterday started with a text message that sent my day into a tailspin.  It was nothing life threatening, just a rather important kink in the planning of Girls' Camp, which is next week.  That kink unearthed some other pretty major problems in the whole Girls' Camp Plan.  Oh, and the camp director is on vacation and out of cell phone range this week.

The result was two different two hour long meetings, several phone calls, an enormous barrage of text messages.

And just a teeny tiny little bit of stress.

Which is, you know, no big deal for me.  I got this.  Stress is my favorite.

Except it makes my brain sort of melt.

I sent out a big group text to ten people calling the second of the emergency planning meetings.  People started answering me back and I was responding to their texts while I was trying to find the other numbers of the people that I needed to text and my poor little brain, which can't handle much at best, was in overdrive.  (Multi-tasking!  Bad idea!)

One girl answered back that she could make the meeting.  I cross my heart and hope to die that I  thought she'd texted that she couldn't make the meeting.  I texted her back with alternative times we could meet.  She texted back, I can make it.

Which, I of course, in my brain melting way, read, "I can't make it."

Wow, I thought, she can't come to any meetings?  I texted her again with more alternative times.  Her response of course didn't make sense because I had forgotten how to read.

So I did what any person would do.

"Emma!"  I yelled, "Come and read this for me.  I am not understanding this."

She picked up my phone and read it.  "She. Can. Come. To. The. Meeting," Emma said.  She didn't add, you are a crazy and deranged woman and pretty soon we're going to have to put you in a home so you don't hurt yourself.

(That was nice of her not to add the last bit.)

Before you start looking up the number of the insane asylum to refer me to, I am feeling better.  My goal today, besides hide my cell phone somewhere where I'll never be able to find it again (because I can't handle that guy, obviously), is to get organized.

This stack includes all the little notes that I've written to myself that need attention (because it's not just wrecked Girls' Camp Plans that are happening...there's all that other life type stuff as well):

If I can make sense of that stack and maybe put it all on one piece of paper (a rather large piece), I think I will be OK.

Wish me luck!