Running my days

During the early stages of wedding planning, I was talking with my mom about scheduling some time to meet with caterers. I whipped out my trusty Day Runner and she exclaimed "You still have that thing?"

Yes, I do. Mom bought it for me on a back-to-school Staples run one year, and I never looked back. This must have been after the ordinance enforcing mandatory use of school-issued "agendas" was lifted, but I can't pin down the exact year.

Long after they stopped selling 6-ring generic planner refills at our local Wal-Mart, I continued using this thing. I order refills every year online.

For one year after college, I stopped using it. I figured, "Hey, I don't have any homework, right?" I felt lost. I get so much more done if I write it down longhand. That makes it real. That means I will do it. And that means I get to scribble it into oblivion once it is done:

There are few things more satisfying than scribbling out to-dos. Now, my mom is right. This thing is old. This thing is so old that plaid has come back into fashion. The cat recently chewed on the little closure strap (check the close-up of his teeth marks below). And, I'll be honest, the cloth cover smells a little bit funny. (I've tried Febreeze.)

It's no secret that I love to keep stuff until I've run it into the ground. Sometimes I just get attached to things that make me feel like me. I've been considering getting a new planner, but they seem so slick and sterile. They scream "I am an organized professional!" This one...well, let's just say I've taken to calling this one my "serial killer notebook."

For if I got a new planner, would it take kindly to my cutting up and punching holes in prints of artwork that I like?

Or to my scribblings of sights I see or things I hear? (Recent favorite: Teenage girl describing a disliked schoolmate as having the look of "an angry snowball." I am so using that.)

Would a new planner sneer at the ridiculous way in which I do math?

This little book is home to all kinds of scraps of me. Nutty scribblings, big ideas, concert ticket stubs, business cards, bar recommendations, books to read, and a beautiful piece written for me by a poet friend years ago, which I whip out whenever I'm feeling down on myself.

Last year, one of my Christmas presents from Chris was a set of colorful monthly divider tabs featuring pictures of the cat and cute little notes.

I think I'll be hanging on to this book a little while yet...