Margie and I complement each other quite well in our handling/expression of stress when it comes to Major Events. Like, say, a long trip away from home.
Margie front-loads her stress. She runs around like a crazy woman in the preceding weeks. She plots, she plans, she takes copious notes in her little notebook, she consults, she web-searches, she shops, she wants to get everything out and ready ahead of time, she gets cranky and stressed-out and obsessed with getting everything done and planned and set up just right.
And then, when the event happens — whether all the planning and plotting and putting together was completed or successful — she is calm. The Zen Goddess of Events. She relaxes. She gets in the groove, five-by-five. Nothing flaps her.
Me, on the other hand … Yes, I plan. I do things in advance. But I also sort of take a “It will happen, it will come together, it’s a long ways away yet.” I want to solidly have confidence in the general parameters, the fundamentals, but I trust the details fall into place just fine.
The Day Of? A wreck. An utter wreck. Racing around like a crazy man, making new lists, triple-checking everything, trying desperately to cover more bases than the National League, nervous, sweaty, sleep-deprived, constantly seeking feedback if everything is okay. A wreck.
This applies to parties.
This applies to GMing games (or it would, if Margie did so. I think she would be great. Of course, I haven’t GMed anything, save one brief session, in over a year, so …).
And it applies to vacation planning.
As you can imagine, we complement each other well. Good thing, or else one or the both of us would run off, screaming, into the night.