What's The Plan?

Nearly every morning started the same way when the weather was clement.  Coffee mugs in hand, Steve and I would take a turn around the deck as soon as the sun was up, doing a check on the property, a little dead-heading on the potted plants.  Leaning on the railing, sooner or later I'd hear the question that started the day, "So, what's the plan?"  That's a lot of responsibility to lay on a person, having to have an agenda, especially when I tend to be one of those fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants people.  Not wanting the system to break down entirely, I'd try to come up with something.  Old habits are hard to break.  Regardless of what chores are waiting, I still take a stroll on the deck and around the yard in the early morning sun.  Bessie Anne does a perimeter check, and Frank and Pearl do their own inspection, but we more or less parade around together.  Inevitably, I will hear that phantom voice, "What's the plan?"  If there are any have-to jobs, I will write them on the kitchen board just to have the satisfaction of crossing them off later (and as a goad when I'm dragging my feet).  Then there are days like yesterday, when there were several things that needed tending, and I chose to pick up a book and ignore everything.  I am enthralled with Stieg Larsson's writing:  tight, fast-paced, characters with character.  The good guys are "human" and the bad guys are capital-E Evil.  It is a pity that his only three books were published posthumously; there won't be any more.  I think today I will finish The Girl Who Played With Fire.  Sounds like a plan to me.