Appointments. Schedules. Our lives revolve around the day planner. At least mine does. All calendar events color coded in Microsoft Outlook. Blue for me. Red for The Young One. Purple for Himself, Pink for The Eldest and Olive Green for the Weebles. My schedule at a glance. Printed sheets neatly color coded hang on the fridge. This month and next month. The Outlook calendar is synched with my Palm Z22, my electronic brain.
Before the last Holy Day of Obligation, I had given Dad my schedule for the next two weeks so he could make the appointment when the foot doctor called to say Ma’s shoes were in.
I went over the schedule with him several times. Wednesday, Thursday one week. Or Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday the week after. It was like a Burns and Schreiber routine.
Apointment. Wednesday, Thursday. Yeah, Wednesday. Yeah. Thursday. Yeah, appointment.
Get it? Got it. Good.
The phone rang. It was Dad.
“The foot doctor called. Ma’s shoes are in.”
“Great. What day did you make the appointment for?”
“I didn’t. Told the secretary I had to check with you first.”
I slapped my forehead. I could have had a V-8
“Ok. Ma had to miss the appointment with the heart doctor because my car was in the shop. Did you make an appointment for her when you went for your appointment?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember what I did with the card.”
Deep sigh. I want to let the Weebles have some say within my parameters of planning their own appointments, but realized sadly this is a task they aren’t capable of doing anymore. So Monday morning after the last Holy Day of Obligation, I called the foot doctor to make an appointment to take Ma for her shoe fitting. I also called the heart doctor to find out when Ma’s next appointment is. Both appointments logged into Outlook and then synched to my electronic brain.
Before the last Holy Day of Obligation, I had given Dad my schedule for the next two weeks so he could make the appointment when the foot doctor called to say Ma’s shoes were in.
I went over the schedule with him several times. Wednesday, Thursday one week. Or Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday the week after. It was like a Burns and Schreiber routine.
Apointment. Wednesday, Thursday. Yeah, Wednesday. Yeah. Thursday. Yeah, appointment.
Get it? Got it. Good.
The phone rang. It was Dad.
“The foot doctor called. Ma’s shoes are in.”
“Great. What day did you make the appointment for?”
“I didn’t. Told the secretary I had to check with you first.”
I slapped my forehead. I could have had a V-8
“Ok. Ma had to miss the appointment with the heart doctor because my car was in the shop. Did you make an appointment for her when you went for your appointment?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember what I did with the card.”
Deep sigh. I want to let the Weebles have some say within my parameters of planning their own appointments, but realized sadly this is a task they aren’t capable of doing anymore. So Monday morning after the last Holy Day of Obligation, I called the foot doctor to make an appointment to take Ma for her shoe fitting. I also called the heart doctor to find out when Ma’s next appointment is. Both appointments logged into Outlook and then synched to my electronic brain.
2 comments:
Honestly, my thought was to make their appointments for them???
Sigh...I think I need you to schedule my appts.
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