internal schedule.

Wednesday was stressful. I had a doctor's appointment at 4:15 and a volleyball game in Cary at 6:45. Not only that, but our team captain had gone to Hong Kong and left me in charge, and we were short a player. We'd already had to forfeit two games for not having enough male players, and I wasn't even sure if I was allowed to recruit people in the middle of the season. Finally, Josh had a show that night downtown, so we'd be up pretty late.

I work on an internal schedule. I've thought a lot about my internal schedule recently, because my boyfriend does not have one. I'd never thought about it much before, because I'd assumed that everyone worked the same way that I did. I thought people were late because they'd miscalculated what time to leave, not because they hadn't thought about it carefully beforehand.

There are the definite events on my schedule, like the doctor's appointment or the volleyball game. But then there are the items that are implied by the events. What time do I need to leave to be somewhere five minutes early? Do I need to go home first? Did I schedule time to eat? If I pack my change of clothes in the morning, will I have time to stop by the pharmacy? These are the things I think about, and I think about them early. As soon as I know about an appointment, I think about where I'll be coming from and how long I'll need to get there. I always pad the time generously to account for traffic and a possible late start. By the day the actual thing is supposed to happen, I've got it all mapped out in my head. You can tell me that I don't need to do this, but I swear it's automatic. It just happens. But having my internal schedule makes me feel like I know what's going on. I am prepared as well as possible for this day. Good morning, Wednesday, I've been expecting you.

Once my schedule is set, I don't like to veer from it. Even if there will be no consequences for doing so, straying from the pre-determined schedule makes me very antsy. Upset, even. And so, when it was 5 PM on Wednesday, and I was still sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office, I began to feel the familiar nervousness that comes from other people not respecting my inner schedule.

I was already a little keyed up from the prospect of forfeiting another volleyball game. I never wanted to be captain. I liked being captain of the team in high school, but that only meant that you had to call a coin toss and be supportive of your teammates. Being captain of an adult league team means that you have to call people and remind them of games, that you have decide on a line-up every time, that you have to be sure you're going to have enough players to make a team. And while I knew it wasn't my fault that people weren't showing up, I still felt responsible. Dude, I just want to show up and play.

So I spent that morning sending instant messages to every guy at my office who seemed like he might be willing to come play with a bunch of people he'd never met. Most of them said they had other plans, and even if they were lying, I don't fault them. But one of them couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. I still wasn't sure if my recruiting was completely within the rules of the league, but I figured that would only matter if we won. And unless this one dude happened to be incredibly awesome at volleyball, I didn't see that happening.

So I'd found a player, that's one checkmark. I'd made it to the doctor's office on time, check two. I was still sitting in the waiting room as the husbands of nurses that worked there arrived to pick up their wives. But then they finally noticed me and decided they'd better see me, since I'd already paid. Okay, so it's a little later than I'd like it to be at this point, but we're still okay. As long as I can make it to the game on time, everything will be fine. And as long as the other players get there, too, and no one questions whether this new guy is allowed to play on our team. I need to chill out.

But then I did get to the game on time, and I even had time to get some chocolate milk and a banana. My players showed up, well, four of them did, but that was enough to play. And we were terrible, but we were in good moods and happy to be playing if we couldn't be happy to be winning. Everything was fine, I'd been stressed all day but everything came together in the end. I could go to the bar downtown, have a beer, watch my boyfriend play bass, and relax. I had met Wednesday head on, and it had been a little sticky, but I'd succeeded at it through preparation.

I got into the car and opened my phone to call Josh. I noticed I had a voicemail, which I figured was probably him, telling me he was at the bar or something like that. The message came on, and his voice was shaky and quiet.

"I guess I had a bike wreck, and uh, I'm at Wake Med in the emergency room. That's where I am."

As I drove too fast to the hospital, I thought about my internal schedule and how this wasn't on it at all.