Say you're a girl who likes a routine. Say you're the kinda gal who might run the same route every day for 2 years, just because you love knowing exactly how many miles you've run, how fast you've run it, and knowing right when the hills can be expected.
Say you're the kind of person who loves to know what's happening today, tomorrow, and the next day. The kind of person who tries not to cringe when an acquaintance casually says, "Oh, we'll just figure it out when we get there." What? No plan? Ack ack ack ack ack.
You may be the kind of person who is mortified by these tendencies. You may wish daily that you were a fly-by-the-seat-of-yer-pants kinda gal. You may wish that it didn't give you an ulcer to be lost in a strange city, or to rushing for a flight, unsure if you'll make it in time. You may watch people who operate without a wristwatch with envy, wondering if it EVER bothers them not to know what time it is, or if they're late, or how many minutes it is until the next appointment.
It's funny how life works. Because say you're that kind of person, and you fall in love with a person who approaches life in exactly the opposite way: someone who always flies by the seat of their pants, someone who never knows where their watch/wallet/keys are, but lives in faith that these items will turn up eventually. Someone who hates to brush their teeth the same way twice, much less drive the same road, run the same course, or wear the same shoes two days in a row.
These two opposites might get married, might delight in this particular element of opposite-ness, and might make a darn good life from it.
And then might come a cosmic event where the kids had a day off from school, the Farmor would be in town from Norway, and the forecast for the beach would be sunny sunny sunny.
Then the Seat of Pants Man may come up with the bright idea of taking off for the ocean - driving into the night, and then spending tomorrow at the beach. Mrs OCD might struggle mightily with ditching her schedule, with leaving all of her routines at home, with just "throwing sleeping bags into the car" and driving off towards the coast.
But she will do it.
Because man oh man does she love the adventures that Mr Seat of the Pants comes up with. She loves that he has passion for possibilities as-yet-undiscovered, and loves that he ignores (in the nicest way possible) her protestations of practicality.
So we're off, dear readers. Off on our next adventure. Look for photos of the Not-Plan soon.