Plans for Saturday

On Friday evening, Maya rang her friend Leo to settle the details of their Saturday. They had been meaning to visit the outdoor market for weeks: Maya hoped to find a plant for her balcony, and Leo needed a present for his sister before her birthday. They had agreed to go together by bus, and both were keen to avoid the kind of improvisation that tends to end with a missed connection.

“Did you check the bus times?” Maya asked. Leo had done so that morning. The first bus left at nine, he said, which was out of the question, since Maya had to work until half past nine; the ten o’clock bus would suit them far better. Neither of them minded the delay, given that the market stayed open well into the afternoon and the best plants, in Maya’s experience, were never sold early anyway.

Leo then consulted the weather forecast, which suggested that rain was likely later in the day. Rather than hope for the best, he proposed a backup plan. “If it rains, we will go to the covered market,” he said. “It is smaller, but there is a very good café upstairs, so the afternoon would not be wasted.” Maya liked the idea, mainly because it turned a possible disappointment into a perfectly pleasant alternative.

“Could you bring your large shopping bag?” she asked. Leo agreed at once. As he was not planning to buy anything heavy, there would be plenty of room in it for her plant, and she would not have to carry a pot on the bus on her own. They settled on meeting at the bus stop at a quarter to ten, which left a margin for the unexpected.

Before ending the call, Maya wrote the time on a note and left it beside her keys, where she could not possibly miss it. They now had a plan, a sensible alternative and a division of tasks, which left her with a single responsibility: to remember to set her alarm. She did so before she had even put the phone down.