Saturday morning is probably the last time I got to socialize in Los Angeles for a long time. I paid a lot for that airline ticket. So in no uncertain terms I’ll be leaving Saturday for the summer, and yet, I haven’t packed anything. Panic is my middle name.
On top of that panic is overwhelming guilt. I thought I’d get in so many coffees, and lunches, and dinners, and playdates in June. I had a plan. Then . . . it went awry. I want to see all of my dear friends. If you’ve ever played the Sims, you know your little computer creations get an emotional boost from time with family and friends. It’s one of the fundamental truths of that game. In real life, there is no time. Sometimes, I feel like Jack Bauer, running from one thing to another trying to get to the goal line.
But back to my first question. Do you think men feel this kind of guilt? They seem to move effortlessly through life not the least bit worried about coffee, or lunch, or dinner or playdates. How do they do it?