I'm not someone who can fly by the seat of my pants. It just goes against my nature. Teaching the RA class last quarter was incredibly difficult for me because I knew going in each night that no matter what plan I had the students would promptly throw it out the window. And that was okay and made the class a lot more interesting (or at least I hoped it did). But it still caused a lot of anxiety for me as I made my way to the college each Wednesday night.

I like a plan for everything, not just work. When someone comes to visit me I usually have an agenda in my mind of what we are going to do for the entire time they are here. They might not be aware of it, but I do. If I don't have a full agenda or (heaven forbid) ask them to help me plan the agenda and they don't properly contribute, I get super crabby. And mean. Because with me crabby and mean go hand in hand. I'm like a two-year-old that way.

I've managed to create a plan for almost everything now. My latest one involves a reading rotation schedule (and yes, I can't believe it has taken me this long to create one, but the need just wasn't there before). I now have a plan where I rotate the genres I normally read. Once I'm done with a book in a particular genre I have to read something from a different genre next. I can't read another book from the genre I just finished until I have gone through the entire rotation of genres. Will it make me a more well rounded reader? I'm hoping. Will it help me get through my TBR stack faster? If there is a God, yes. Is it torture to wait on reading a book until its genre is next? You have no idea.

The reason I'm bringing up my Anal Annie-ness is because I am taking a mini-vacation over the 4th of July to do some stuff back home. So before coming to work today I called my mom to discuss the plan. Even when I'm going home, I need a plan. Carol wasn't really up for coming up with a plan though, so I am currently without a plan. And in case you are wondering, panic has already begun to set in. I just know my entire vacation will be spent at her house going:

Me: What do you want to do?
Mom: I don't know. What do you want to do?
Me: I don't know. What do you want to do?

Imagine this over and over with me getting more irritable with each passing moment. But I digress. The real reason I'm blogging about this is because I worry. Does needing a plan for everything make me un-fun? I like to think of myself as being fun, but now I'm not so sure.

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