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My friend S. believes herself to be void of all spontaneity.  Not true.

This past Sunday we spent a gloriously unplanned day at the beach, and she enjoyed every last minute of it. Except for charting each hour in 30 minute increments (her newborn is on a “schedule”), S didn’t flinch as the hours passed or when we agreed to go to a restaurant. Sunday was completely and deliciously unplanned. There is still hope for her.

It should be noted for the record that said person, back during undergrad and grad school, was known for sleeping late, impulsive trips to Italy, and impromptu parties. Somewhere in her thirties she redefined herself as a meticulous scheduler of all matters – a trait that bewilders all who knew her prior.

And while it may appear as though her husband and children scrupulously follow her finely scripted schedule, insiders know better. She might even argue they secretly revel in her exactness … might even demand it of her … it is well known her quest for precision is mostly amusing. 

(If you really want to throw her into a tailspin, call her at the last minute — in S-speak: 72 hours before a planned event — and reschedule.)

Today, S formally requests the record be noted that on the 1st day of November, 2009 she was spontaneous.

It has been noted S.

Herewith images of said subject’s son enjoying unplanned activities.

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