March 21, 2006 9:24pm

Remember when you were a kid and your parents told you that in 3 months you would be going to Disney? Of course, the first thing you did was run to your room and begin packing. After all, this is a momentous event and you don't want to be caught without enough underwear for the three day trip.

I'm packing. Not going to Disney, though. Just going home for a week. Packing is my latest way of avoiding studying. I have done 4 loads of laundry, tried on every single possible outfit and laid out exactly enough for my week, plus a few extras, some variations, and two "dressy" outfits.

Because my mama taught me well.

Why am I being so organized? Am I always this compulsive? Hell no! I usually grab everything I can find in 3 or 4 key dresser drawers, throw it all in an overnight bag and jet out the door.

But let's say you were going on that trip to Disney and you knew for a fact that you were going to be meeting Mickey Mouse. Not just meeting him, but would have a private audience with him on more than one day.

Exactly. Careful wardrobe planning is key.

So who is my Mickey Mouse? My mystery mousy man is a friend of mine who I have been recently talking to....a lot. We've known each other for a few years. There was always "something" there, but I was always taken and he was in and out of relationships. In short, it wasn't the right time for us. Taking everything very slow, and being very cautious, but really looking forward to seeing him when I get home.


I'm a planner. Always have been. When things don't go according to my plan, I decompensate just long enough to readjust the plan and all is well again. Obviously, the biggest plan I had ever made got snatched away from me, so I had to readjust.

Thing is, putting all my eggs in this brand new basket at my door would be just stupid. So, for the first time in my life, I actually have to go without a plan. This is all a "just wait and see" kinda thing. On the other hand, we already know each other really well so I avoid the whole first date awkwardness and I get to learn about him in a different way since I already know the basic details of his life.

But a true planner will never, ever, ever be completely planless! I had a plan! Here's how it was supposed to go.....

Mystery man usually works Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night. Perfect! I'll be driving in Friday (but tell him I'm coming Saturday). Get a good night's sleep. Saturday morning I was going to dash up to where he (and I) work for a surprise visit. There will be enough people around that we won't have an awkward moment of "Hey, I haven't seen you in 8 months and now we're suddenly in a weird potential dating phase." Hug Hug, how are ya? You look great! Blah blah blah. He'd go to work that night and the next and we'd make plans for Monday night.

Monday night was key as that would give me just enough time to get a manicure, pedicure, eyebrow wax, find an amy-approved outfit for the evening, clean up the house, open the windows and light some candles to get that musty closed up smell out and more then enough time on Monday to shower, primp and get ready.

All of these things, of course, revolve around me catching some Amy time, hanging out with mom so she doesn't feel neglected, getting Brooke a shower gift, going to Brooke's bridal shower on Sunday (crap! did you just read that?) and running any other necessary errands.

In addition, I wanted to put some thought into which restaurant we should go to, scope out the parking situation, plan what we should do afterwards, and check the weather a few times to make any adjustments to the plan as necessary.

But plenty of time, right?

So, I talked to him yesterday. I decided to kick my plan into high gear and get Monday night settled as a "date". Here's how that went....

Me:So, when do I get to see you next week?
Mystery Man: Well, when are you coming home?
Me: Friday night. Oh devil! Why did I say that? Saturday! It's Saturday! Remember the plan you turd! Oh well, this only makes Saturday less of a surprise. At least he's still working the weekend.
Mystery Man: Great! I can see you Friday night.
Me: Um, wait, don't you work?
Mystery Man: It's easier for me to get out of work on Friday than Saturday. I have to work Saturday and Sunday. And then I'm free anytime from Monday until the following Sunday.
Are you kidding me? Are you flippin' kidding me? You never take a day off. You'd work yourself to death first. Now that I'm coming home you're suddenly semi-retired?
Me: Uh...well...uh..yeah...uh, but I might get in real, real late. See, I have this test Friday morning and I might be up all night so I'll sleep some when I get back to my place. And then I have to pack. Right. Pack. And then there might be traffic 'cause it's Friday. Yanno, lots of traffic on Fridays.
Mystery Man: Well, that's ok. Maybe then we can just go get coffee or go to a diner or something.
Me: ::sigh:: Yeah. That sounds great.


I don't want to give the wrong impression. I'm excited that there's someone who wants to see me so badly that he'll rush down to me as soon as I cross the state line.

But this was not in my plan!

Now there's no time for the mani/pedi, I'll have hairy eyebrows, I'll smell like the inside of my truck, who knows what condition the house is in since DB left, I have no amy-approved outfit, no place picked out that we should go to, no after plan, no back-up plan in case of inclement weather (snow storm, tsunami, tornado, volcanic eruption). I have nothing! Absolutely nothing!

What's a girl to do?

I'll tell you what a girl does. She starts packing her bags 3 days in advance and tries on every possible outfit and variation she has before putting it in the bag as a "possibility". She then makes a mix CD of the most awesome Coltrane, Miles Davis, Van Morrison, and Dave Matthews anyone has ever heard. When she rolls into town Friday night, she unpacks her truck, leaves the windows open to get the McDonalds smell out, calls Mystery Man and tells him to head down. This gives her approximately 45 minutes to take a shower and put on one of the "possibilities" that was decided on during a phone conversation with one of her friends in the car on the way up. A few dabs of mascara and she's looking fabulous. Mystery Man arrives and they go to Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts (depending on which is open), get coffee, and drive down to the inlet to watch the fishing boats go out for the night. She also strategically pops in the aforementioned Coltrane/Davis/Van Morrison/DMB CD.

See, the perfect night just falls into place.