I lost my turkey.

I did. I lost my actual Thanksgiving turkey. This is not a metaphor for losing my shit. Or an allegory or an idiom (don’t feel bad if you have to google these, I did).

Here’s what happened. I left the Madison Women’s Expo where I’d just given a talk on how Time Management is a myth. Apparently it really, really is. I’m an expert I should know.

I drove to the grocery store FIVE count ‘em FIVE days before Thanksgiving. Look at me. So smug and ready for the world. At the grocery, I contemplated turkeys. How big? How butter ball-ey? Did they run and play in life?  How grateful were they? You know the drill.

I chose a turkey. He was so glad. We talked about it.

Off I went. I considered doing some Christmas shopping but said to myself, I said, “No Ann. Don’t push it. Do a few kegels and call it a day.”

That night I preened. I’d given a talk about how to use time wisely. I’d foraged for food for my family. I’d even showered and changed my underwear. It. Had. Been. A. Good. Day.

Fast forward.

The day to cook the turkey came. I shuffled downstairs to start honoring those that came over on the Mayflower. I opened the refrigerator. Hmmmm no turkey. Not even behind the 4 partially filled egg cartons and last year’s cranberries. Weird.

Not to worry.

Still, two freezers to check.

Checked.

Back to the fridge. Yes to sprouted potato’s, expired Mayo, seven kinds of mustard and four half-filled wine bottles. Yes to sticky shelves and something completely unidentifiable.

Score: Grubby Fridge: 10, Turkey 0

Next up. I checked the trunk of my car, the back seat, my closet (don’t judge me you know you put things in weird places too).

Not one to dwell on the heartbreaking loss of material items I put a coat over my pajamas and went to the store and bought another turkey.

Later, after too much pie, I took a moment to ponder my lost turkey. I think it’s important to reflect. Here are my thoughts. I either chose the turkey and it never made it to my cart or I purchased the turkey but left it in the store. Or, more likely, I bought the turkey, put it in my car, got it into the house but it was a magic turkey and it disapparated and has apparated in an open field of turkeys and is living out its days trying to fit in even though it’s giblets are in a bundle.

In any case, I thought you should know that time management is a myth. If you have too much going on you will lose your turkey

XO Ann

Ann Garvin, Mother, professor, and USA Today Bestselling author of I Like You Just Fine When You’re Not Around. Founder of The Tall Poppy Writers and The Fifth Semester. Ann believes someone has to lift up and make fun of women so it might as well be her.

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