When the To-Do List Laughs Back: A Glimpse Into My Wonderfully Chaotic Wednesday

If you’d peeked at the color-coded checklist I drafted last night, you’d think I was poised for a flawless, hyper-organized day. Plot twist: the universe glanced at my bullet points, winked, and rewrote my itinerary—again. No two days ever look the same, but today felt especially kaleidoscopic.

Morning: Grandma, Doctors & Drive-Thru Decaf

First stop: chauffeur duty for Grandma’s appointment. She breezed through her check-up (no sass—but did you know she plans to live to 110?), so I bribed—I mean rewarded—her with her favorite treat: a large decaf iced coffee, no ice. Watching her sip happily through a straw felt like a secret victory lap before the day even began.

Midday: Dog-Pile Diplomacy & Family Catch-Ups

I cracked open the front door and the pups launched themselves straight into the car, tails whirling like propellers—they knew a cousin-pup playdate was imminent. The whining chorus began the instant our tires hit the street, escalating into squeaks of pure joy when we arrived. Somewhere between the wrestling matches and slobber kisses, Farrah barreled into my leg at about ninety miles an hour, leaving a bruise the exact size and shape of her soft head. Ouch.

Afternoon: Therapy Wins & Tag-Team Editing

Therapy followed—my sacred sixty minutes. I got to say something I never take for granted: “I’ve had more good days than bad lately.” Healing is slow magic, and every inch counts.

Back home, parental multitasking resumed. One kiddo sniffly and horizontal on the couch; the other shared her manuscript via Google Docs and asked, “Mom, can you help me edit this chapter?” We sat side by side—each on our own laptop—suggesting cuts and cheering revisions. Her book is good; the girl can write. Somewhere in the shuffle I remembered we needed food that didn’t involve cereal, so grocery shopping slid into the open slot on my ever-shifting agenda.

Evening: Kickstarter Graphics & the Elusive Edit

Before dinner, I dove into Adobe Illustrator—layers, masks, and typography flying—as I finessed visuals for the upcoming Kickstarter to launch “Jason” into the world. Exporting those files felt suspiciously productive.

Now it’s after dinner. The sink is (mostly) empty, the dogs are snoring, and my own manuscript still waits—chapters tapping their metaphorical feet. Frustrating? Absolutely. But I’m learning to trust the elasticity of evenings. Two chapters before bed still sounds dreamy, and if it ends up being two pages, that’s progress too.

The Takeaway (For Me and Maybe for You)

Life in our house is an unpredictable playlist: doctors, dog zoomies, therapy breakthroughs, impromptu editing sessions, and grocery runs. I used to believe real writers carved out pristine, silent hours at the same desk every sunrise. Turns out some of us write in the margins—between decaf coffee runs for Grandma and bruise-inducing puppy hugs—and that’s perfectly valid.

So here’s to the checklist that never stood a chance and the chapters waiting patiently for whenever I’m ready. Chaos doesn’t cancel creativity; it just sneaks in through side doors. Tonight, if words flow, wonderful. If not, I can still claim a day spent caring, laughing, healing, and dreaming—fertile soil for tomorrow’s pages.

Until then, may your tea be warm, your dogs be gentle, and your plans delightfully flexible.

Alexis