The Day I Went Off The Rails in Coconut Grove, Florida

Lost in space

Have you ever had one of those days when you felt you had lost your mind?¹

Coconut Grove is a very small neighborhood south of downtown Miami, Florida. Eclectic and popular, it is an easy place to escape for several hours. Perfect for my Sunday morning. A little Key West vibe, decent food, and a bookstore. You’d like it, I promise.

When I woke up at 6:30, my brain said it was Sunday. I got up early because Sunday mornings are for me, whether for a solitary bike ride down the Underline, a walk on the beach, or a solo visit to a bookstore.

These days, I never look at my calendar. I have a set schedule. Workout Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and learn how to publish a book on all the other days. Besides, my calendar had been glitching lately, and I'd never leave if I stopped to sit at my desk. I’d reserved the car. That’s a big deal in a one-car household with up to four impatient drivers vying for that one vehicle.

My first clue should have been the traffic. There was a lot of it, which shouldn’t have been on a Sunday morning. Yet my audiobook was rocking, and I laughed at the author’s crazy antics as she tried to make friends in London. (If you don’t know

Jess Pan

you should.)

My second clue was finding a place to park. There should have been no cars on the street early on a weekend. I mean, come on. No one in Miami gets up before ten on a weekend. They just don't unless they’ve planned a bike bro ride or some other SUP or kayaking tour.

Nope. I am oblivious. I had a quick bite at Emissary with my coffee.

Then I headed to the water. My husband, when he’s nearby, moors his boat at Dinner Key Marina. If you look at the photo below and focus on the horizon at the tiny tiny boat the furthest distance away, well, that’s where he usually parks.

Even though he’s not there now, I needed a quick boat fix.

Heading back to the shopping area, I saw the manager of Blue Mercury open his signboard on the sidewalk. A red flag went up in my head. That location isn’t open on Sundays. Still, my brain was so happy being away from my computer and all the publishing insanity (more on that next week) that I turned the corner and kept going.

Books! It’s my off day, and where do I go? A bookstore! (I need a new hobby, guys.) Books & Books is Miami’s local chain of book stores, which supports authors, holds events, and even provides food and coffee. The largest store in Coral Gables has a full restaurant.

The Coconut Grove location is small but welcoming, with a coffee bar and pastries.

Clue four: the old codgers sitting outside. Like it's a weekday.

Nope. Oblivious again. I breezed past them and went into the store, taking my time. After an hour or so, I headed back outside, turning left to eat an early lunch down the street. I glanced down at my phone. Since it was Sunday, I’d kept the ringer off, giving me peace from the frantic buzzing and chirping that was mostly spam on the weekends.

There were way too many texts. And emails. I turned the sound back on the phone.

Yes, I know. That’s a lot of cars for an early Sunday morning.

Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, I almost caused a crash with a baby carriage behind me. My phone was blowing up. You’ve had those moments. Don’t tell me you haven’t. The sinking feeling like you’ve seriously screwed up this time.

The emails rolled in, and then the texts started chirping. The woman at my 10:00 appointment was worried because I hadn’t shown up for our meeting. On Monday. Not Sunday. She sent three texts and tried to call me. The next appointment was texting to confirm we were still on for lunch. What the hell?

I pulled up the glitchy calendar. It was Monday. Yes, my scheduled appointments were nowhere to be found, but it was definitely Monday—a blank, clean slate passing itself off as a Sunday.

Holy crap.

So I scrambled, raced to the car, and rescheduled things. My relaxing Sunday morning brunch went up in smoke. Pulling away from the curb, I spent the next twenty minutes on my way to West Miami, trying to figure out the date snafu. I’ve only done something like this once before, and that was thirty years ago.

Things resolved fairly quickly within an hour, and thankfully, no one was bent out of shape. I could only guess how I was such a complete scheduling train wreck. But what made me angry was opening the calendar app that night to prepare for Tuesday.

Every blasted one of Monday’s events had magically reappeared.

I’ve ordered a manual calendar with a leather cover that will make me want to use it.

1. My family can sit quietly, please. No need to stir the pot.