The Four-Day Drill Sergeant

Honestly?  I am not sure whether to apologize for my foibles and flaws or call out to have my awesome bossiness celebrated...I imagine it all depends on a person's perspective and relative closeness to my current tendency to micromanage.  Seriously, though, there's stuff to do and very little time to do it in.  If it wasn't for our checklists and spreadsheets and the fact that we really are very organized, I might feel even more tyrannical. In the immortal words of Mary Poppins, "spit spot!" and in the echoing words of my dad, "We're burning daylight!"

The other day Teri put up some definite boundaries when she told me to go to work and micromanage them and stop micromanaging her. I couldn't tell her that the staff  was probably breathing a sigh of relief that I was at home and not up in their business on the work front (although it is in my job description.)  Part of me figures I can just apologize later all around for being such a drill sergeant and pushing us all along.  I am sorry, but not sorry enough to stop my behaviors...yet.

My justification is that four days is NOT very much time.  That is only 96 hours if I'm doing the math correctly.  96 hours to do all the things that couldn't be done until now: the cooking, baking, decorating, practicing, entertaining and final sprucing and cleaning of EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD.  Okay, that was a little drama for humor's sake, but really, lots to do. The differences in our temperaments and pacing couldn't be more pronounced right about now between Teri and I and underneath is a whole lotta anxiety.  My way of dealing with the nervousness is to stay focused on coordinating and doing while I think Teri would prefer to curl up and hide out from the bustle and pressure.  Both perfectly justifiable approaches, mind you, but not the most compatible. As Teri commented with exasperation yesterday, "As soon as I finish one thing, I have to move right on to the next!"  That's the key to how it works as distraction!

I am trying to ease up or at least have some compassionate humor about the fact that I am tapping my baton and blowing my whistle (metaphorically, of course, although had I thought ahead a little...) I really do have some idealistic vision of turning over some of this to my Best Gal Wendy when she arrives on Thursday.  Surely she won't be too exhausted after driving all the way from Indiana with her two young adult sons?  In the end, it is going to be what it is going to be--but with 96 hours to go, Onward!