Monday Morning

Half of my have-everything-in-order-ahead-of-time I was born with. The other half my mom taught me - not directly but by her actions. For you see, unlike most families, Sunday mornings in our house were very rarely rushed - VERY RARELY. For Mom laid out our dresses (or slacks/shirt/tie for the two boys), complete with shoes and hose/socks. (If we didn't like the outfit, too bad.) As most of our dresses had matching hairbows, it was easy for her to pluck them off the holder in her bathroom when we brought her our hairbrush. And that's just a sample of the order my mom exumes.

To this day, very rarely does Sunday come and I haven't already decided what outfit I will wear or how I will do my hair. I don't lay the clothes out, but I already know what I'm looking for and which iron to plug in as I brush my teeth. I'm the same any day of the week. I have my workout cloths in their bag every night (unless I just leave them at work), on Tuesday evening my backpack is packed with everything I will need for my Wednesday evening class and if I'm running errands after work, the boxes are packed for the post office, the list made for the grocery store or the library books stacked for their return. I go out of town for a brief trip this Thursday and Friday and already the suitcase is half packed. You get the picture. So imagine my chagrin when I couldn't find the check I wrote, already in it's stamped envelope ready to mail this morning.

First I looked through the piles I had prepared for the next two mornings: not in my stack of thank-you cards to take to work and write when I have a minute. Not in my pile of library books to be returned tomorrow after work. I looked in my backpack, already packed for Wednesday evening. No. Not in my bank file which I had been working in Saturday to close out all my 2012 stuff. And not in the container where my files are kept. My only other option was my trash, which I had taken out yesterday as it gets picked up today. So, once I was ready for the day and prayed I would find the check, I took all my pre-prepared stuff out to my car and got in the trash bin. And guess what? It was right on top: stamped and ready to go.

I thanked God and very felt relieved. And then I felt very frustrated with myself. What was I thinking that I didn't put that where I could find it? It should never have ended up in my trash. Next time I'll put it somewhere better. And, no, I'm not OCD. I'm just prepared.