Planning. Some days I wish the concept was a completely foreign one. A terrifically natural – and sometimes terrifying – propensity to plan is what landed me in my current profession but, after work day obligations to logistics and order, and sleep-slaying mental check-list making, some days the urge to think no further ahead than the next word in my book is too overwhelming to deny. So perhaps recently I’ve spent a few too many weekend and evening hours in ignorance of my to-do list. With pretending my calendar is months shorter than it really is. With tracking time not by minutes but by how many more pages of reading I can sneak in.
But the sudden and glorious arrival of spring, with its balmy air and temptation to linger over al fresco dinners, seems to have thoroughly defeated my avoidance of planning ahead. Case in point? Come the first official day of spring, giddy with excitement, the clock and I counted down together to the moment tickets went on sale for a glorious at-the-farm dining experience – in September. Let the planning begin.