Little Miss Marnie Makes the Rules...

...she just doesn't always play by them. That, my dear friends, is precisely the problem.

Most people are afraid of going to a therapist because they might find out there is something wrong with them. I, on the other hand, am afraid to go because I'm quite aware that there is something wrong with me and I'm concerned they might want to fix it.

What?

I know, what sense does that make?

We're all flawed but do we all need to be "fixed". I don't think so. Our flaws (let's not call them that, let's call them quirks) are what make us perfect. Perfectly unique.

I'll use myself as an example. Besides having a flare for senseless rambling, I feel the need to plan. Maybe I should be more precise. I feel the need to plan EVERYTHING. I like lists. I like numbers. I also like spreadsheets. My entire life is planned in spreadsheets. I have one for everything I need - our budget, the family chores, weekly menus, grocery lists, my business, Mr. B's business, my (attempted) weight loss, and anything else I can dissect and arrange. I sometimes even plan things I know I'll never do. Oh, and if I can create a macro to do something spectacular in one of those spreadsheets, that is bliss.

You may have noticed I mentioned the planning part but failed to mention the execution. That might be where I could possibly use a little fixing.

Sniffers thinks it's funny and likes to tease me about my spreadsheets. I like that she does that because it means she knows me well enough to understand that about me (even before my public declaration).

Shannon doesn't even seem to notice because she too is a planner in her own way. We are kindred spirits. (A+D bffs forever)

To be honest, I'm not sure what Mr. B thinks about it. I imagine that he thinks it's terribly cute and it just makes him want to put me in his pocket. Maybe that's true. Maybe he doesn't think it's odd simply because we've been together for half our lives and so to him it's no different than the freckles on my body. (I wonder how many freckles I have) Maybe, and most likely, he just understands and lets me do my thing because he has his own quirks. Thankfully, his are different from mine so there's no competition for who gets to be the clean freak and who gets to be the control freak.

I think you can all guess which one I am.

Anyway, the point of this mindless chatter is that I don't always play by the rules that I make for myself. In the past I would be happy with that because it just meant more planning needed to be done when the first one didn't work out perfectly. This week I figured out that my inability to follow my own plan might actually make me *gulp* a bad planner.

This will not do.

My weight loss and debt reduction (and sanity) depend on this. Life plan set... two days down... so far... so good. Wish me luck! ~because I'm going to need it~