Yesterday I ventured to Target with my friend, B, and as is tradition around this time, I dragged her down the planner aisle. She commented that she knew it would happen and that it’s hilarious to watch me plan what planner I’m going to get. As such, I’m positive that she’s 98% expecting this to happen, 1% amused, and 1% totally baffled by my love for stationery and calendars.
I (almost literally) rip through the whole section like Godzilla, tossing planners over my shoulders for the littlest thing that does not meet my criteria. “This one doesn’t have a pen loop.” “That one has no pockets for my Post-Its.” “This one has a weekly layout but I can’t see the whole month at a glance.” I’m very picky. Hey, I have a right to be; I’m locked into this for a year! That’s longer than the typical Hollywood marriage!
This year, I am sorry to report that my beloved planner has been left out in the cold. It seems as if Target does not carry refills for it anymore. I think FranklinCovey is out to get me. It’s like those Stride commercials where a guy runs up to someone chewing gum and bashes him in the stomach with a baseball bat to get Gum Guy to spit out the piece he’s been chewing for a week. FC is thinking, “A-ha! Now’s the time to get her to try something new. Quick, take all the Size 3 Compact refills off the shelf!!”
Secretly, I’ve been wanting a Moleskine planner (they’re so sleek, but please don’t tell my current planner that. I still have a month to go with it and I’d hate myself if it knew I was having doubts.) But my trusty pink planner has been with me for years, years I tell you. It’s my only successful long-term relationship. I can’t stand the thought of putting it in a drawer and never speaking to it ever again.
Whatever planner I decide to get, I still have a month, and the first thing I’m writing in it is the time and location for my therapy session. It’s clear that I have an unhealthy attachment to an inanimate object.