Why does everything happen at once?

Nobody is available for weeks. Nobody returns a call. Nobody can give you a delivery date.

Then, suddenly, everyone is coming Thursday.

The man installing the radiators. The handyman repairing the kitchen floor. The landscaper and pool cleaner. The furniture delivery people. Apparently, they have a group chat. I am the only one not included.

On the one day everyone is available I have the flu.

Naturally. Because coordinating a small army of men is so much more rewarding with body aches and a tissue lodged in your sleeve.

Meanwhile, those impossible restaurant reservations? The ones you apparently need an organ donor and a foolproof contact to secure? They all came through.

For the same night.

The night I already had theater tickets.

Weeks of nothing, then suddenly I’m expected to eat three dinners and make an eight o’clock curtain.

Then there are the New York Giants because when I finally sit down, I like to entrust what remains of my emotional well-being to a football team.

Other women meditate. I invite further aggravation into the living room.

I don’t expect everything to go my way.

I would just appreciate it if not everything happened on the same day, leading a path to crowded chaos which craves oversight.