I guess I'm "one of those people"

There’s a reason that pride is considered a sin and that it “goeth before a fall” – every single thing that I overtly or invertly (coinage alert) brag about inevitably kicks me in the ass.  Here’s my latest sense of that:

I have always prided myself on not being “one of those people” who a) takes a trip without knowing who they’re going to see or what they’re going to do or b) stays up all night packing and working and arrives exhausted.  The latter prohibition may surprise some of you.  I am, and have been, quite clearly a chronically over-booked person.  But I am also an obsessive planner.  So my planning obsession generally trumps overtakes my activity addiction and causes me to cut bait a day or two before a trip and pack everything in advance.  Not, I hasten to add, always with clarity, focus, ease and grace.  Often there is chaos in the wake of my packing but I postpone facing that until my return.

Weeks before the trip (no, probably months) we start thinking about what we’re going to do, sending out email inquiries to friends in that town to see if they’ll be around, poking around on the internet to see what’s happening, what to get tickets for, what to line up.  By the time we arrive we have a full dance card and program of activities—dinners, lunches, shows.  And it’s great and we enjoy it all. 

Unfortunately, I have passed on the planning gene to our 20-year-old daughter and it seems to be, depending on the setting, one of her greatest blessings and curses.  “Here’s the thing, Bob,” she calls me Bob (it’s a story for a different post), “No one else my age plans anything.  I am a freak for planning!” She leaves the obvious unstated, that I too am something of a freak even in my generation.  Yet, she sometimes confesses, “It actually gives me a lot of ability to lead with my friends and at work.  It’s like I can do this weird thing that practically no one else can do.”  (Bob, I can hear her saying now, I totally never said that.  Why are you putting that in your blog?  Please leave me out of your weird blog)

So that’s the context in which you find me--dusting off my clothes and spreading Arnica on my metaphorical bruises from a fall last night: I got less than 4 hours of sleep because I stayed up working and doing last minute packing.  And, it gets worse—we are arriving today for 2 days in a city in which we lived in for 9 years, filled with old friends, with no plans and no one to see. 

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Sigh.  I guess I’m one of those people…