In my perfect world, I'm always well-prepared.
In my real life, it's all about lists and communication, alarms and coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Wake up, get organized, get the kids where they need to go. Take care of the dog. Do the chores, plan dinner, get some writing done in between the cracks.
I dream one day of finding a cookbook of perfect slow cooker recipes that can be prepared ahead of time and frozen, easily batch-prepared in advance and stashed away in the freezer for when I need them. In this world I also remember to thaw out the food the night before so it's not a frozen block of mystery food thunked into the crock.
I dream of finding the perfect housecleaning punch list that will take me effortlessly through the house, knocking out items quickly, efficiently and did I mention effortlessly? I'm not a fan of cleaning, much to my mother's chagrin. Housework is that thing that once you finish it, it needs doing again. I'm just not a fan of those jobs.
I dream of magically finding that sweet spot where inspiration meets mental acuity and free time so I can write all the things, capture the tails of those fleeting words and keep them on my pages. But in reality, I write down cryptic non-sequiturs as reminders that are not helpful as they make no sense. I think my best thoughts as I'm falling asleep (I'll write that down when I wake up!), in the shower (Such a good idea, I need to write this down when I'm done.) or when I'm running (Must... [huff-puff] ... remember ... [huff-puff] ... write it ... [huff-puff] ... down!) and then subsequently do not write these things down.
I dream of living by a list. But in reality, it's more of a fly by the seat of my pants conflagration. I'm baby stepping to my dream world every day, clipping articles and reading books and bookmarking webpages and pinning things to my Pinterest boards.
So this is how I prepare. I prepare to prepare.