Cocoon Diaries: Entry #8 – When Plans Collapse: My Love Affair with the Backup Plan (and Plan C, D, E… Z)

The Plan That Never Was
I woke with lists, intentions strong and neat,
A color-coded, time-bound daily guide.
But by 9:10, chaos came to greet,
And all my bullet points just ran and hide.

The maid called in, the dog threw up again,
My son misplaced his socks (and mental peace). (Years ago!)
The power went, and then began the rain —
My plan? It curled up gently and deceased.

But lo! From ruins rose a brand-new scheme,
With tea in hand and expectations low.
I waltzed through mess with laughter and a dream —
That someday life will run like a show.

Until then, I survive on wit and grace,
Plan Z in hand, and biscuits just in case.

Plan A: The Beautiful Illusion

Every night, I sleep like an optimistic project manager.

Tomorrow, I shall:

1. Wake early and do yoga
2. Plan meals ahead
3. Work on those emails
4. Write two chapters
5. Water all the plants
6. Be the perfect wife, mom, boss, creative soul, and functioning adult

Reality the next morning:

• Alarm snoozed thrice
• Beagle puked on rug
• Cook’s cousin’s wedding again (3rd time in 2 years?)
• Husband can’t find his ID card
• Phone rings — random relative wants “just 2 minutes”
• Power gone
• And oh, there’s a lizard in the bathroom now

And just like that, Plan A is pronounced dead before breakfast.

Plan B: Panic but Make it Productive

Plan B is where I reduce expectations by 70% and trick myself into thinking I’m still in charge.

• Skip yoga, stretch while looking for my husband’s missing file
• Water only the visibly dying plants
• Write half a sentence and reward self with a samosa & chai.
• Work while muttering inspirational things like “One day I’ll run away to the hills with my dogs and never return.”

Plan C, D, and E: Improvised Theatre

Here’s where everyone joins the plot:

• Loki (The Beagle):
  Sits on every document I need urgently. Refuses to move. Stares deeply into my soul instead.
• The Bunnies:
  Somehow get underfoot when I’m rushing — turn into roadblocks made of fluff and innocence.
• My Cook:
  Decides today is the day to try an “experimental sweet” just as the gas cylinder finishes mid-boil.
• My Son:
  Calls from office just when I find my creative flow, because obviously, I’m his Google, Swiggy and IT department in one.
• My Husband:
  Offers to help… and immediately misplaces three things, bless his helpful heart.

Plan Z: Zen Activated

By the time I hit Plan Z:

• I have achieved 2 tasks from the original list (accidentally).
• I’m sipping tea, still in the same clothes as morning.
• I’ve laughed at least once.
• I’ve threatened to move to the mountains — twice.
• I’ve made peace with the fact that some days are just for surviving with style.

And on rare, magical days —
Plan Z turns out better than Plan A ever looked on paper.

The Takeaway (Served with Chutney)

Plans are like samosas – today was the modest French Fries!
Best when hot and fresh, but still edible when crumpled, hard and cold.

They’re meant to guide, not guilt-trip.

Life happens. Dogs puke. Power cuts happen. People change timelines without warning. You forget half the things you swore you’d do.

But if you can laugh…
Make some tea…
And end the day with all your people, furballs, and mental health mostly intact…

You win.

Sipping my tea, my musings:

Let the world run on timetables.
Let others thrive on charts, graphs, and Excel sheets.

Me?
I’ve got Plan Z, a pack of tissues, six clingy bunnies, a half-written to-do list, and the best snuggle therapist in the world (a.k.a Loki).

That’s all I need to keep this little chaos-kingdom going.

And hey — I didn’t burn the dal today. That’s a solid win.

#CocoonDiaries

#Entry8

#PlanAZ

#DomesticChaosChronicles

#LokiAndTheList

#BunnyRoadblocks

#LifeWithBackupPlans

#PeaceOverPerfection