Paging Dr. Phil

Anybody take the FranklinCovey Time Management course? It’s geared toward people who claim they have no time to even breathe, let alone take an all-day time management course.

Mom likes to think she’s in the former category, but went ahead and enrolled in the class anyway, because:

• She's actually heard of FranklinCovey courses. (It's another story that she thought Franklin Covey was really one person.)
• She thought taking the course might help her uncover an extra hour in the day that she could spend on herself.
• She likes to be “out of office” as much as possible.
• It was free! With breakfast and lunch included! (It doesn’t take much to motivate my human.)

Of course, mom had to arrive late as always, even for a time management course. As she settled down with a tall glass of O.J. and a carrot muffin, mom listened to the perky instructor reassure the class that by the end of the day, they would all be “dangerously organized.”

“Cool,” thought mom. “Maybe I can do the laundry, vacuum the house, do the dishes, make dinner, walk Terri, feed the kids, return phone calls, open my mail, bathe/read to the kids, pack tomorrow’s lunch, answer e-mails and still find time to actually iron my work clothes. Maybe I’ll have time to iron the kids’ clothes, too. Ooh, maybe I’ll even be able to comb my hair more than once a day!”

“Focus!” stressed the instructor, urging the class to stop wasting time over Q-IV activities, like spending four hours at blogspot.com clicking on random blogs, wondering if that cute guy in the second cubicle on the right is single, and listening to American Idol water cooler talk and realizing you’re the only soul in America who hasn’t watched the show.

“It’s very important for you to set goals for yourself,” said the instructor. “We all have goals, right?” she continued. “Some of you may want to retire in the next five years; some of you may want to buy a house; travel to Africa; become a literacy volunteer ....”

As she watched the others nod their heads in assent, mom realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was probably the only one in class without a goal in life. She didn’t want to climb Mt. Everest; didn't want to become Madhuri Dixit; didn’t want to retire to an ashram in the Himalayas to rediscover herself; was probably not going back to school anytime soon; did not want to open a flower shop; or enter politics.

The woman’s only immediate goal, as far as I can tell, is to somehow get through the week and move closer to Friday.

“I'm a loser,” thought mom dejectedly, berating herself for being so content with life and not aspiring after a higher plane.

She left the classroom with a thick Franklin planner that she's required to tote everywhere, and will supposedly transform her into a supra-organized goddess.

Back at her desk, renewed with a sense of purpose, mom flipped the planner to the "Goals" section and determinedly scribbled, “Buy larger purse within the next three months to fit Franklin planner.”