I may be last-minute, the bar may be low—but we clear it

I

do this thing every year where I willfully ignore the Jewish calendar until I’m physically unable to anymore.

I watch pomegranates pile up in the shuk and assume people are just reeeeally into antioxidants this year. I walk past Succos decorations in Geulah without flinching. The smell of sufganiyot wafts through the streets and I think, “Huh, someone’s baking.”

And then I get the text. “Hi! Does Tuesday night work for a Chanukah party?”

That’s when reality hits: Yom Tov is happening whether I’m ready or not.

And I’m consistently not.

Purim is no different.

Living in Eretz Yisrael means we don’t have all the conveniences of the States. (Read: Amazon. Also Amazon. And most important, Amazon.) If you want to be geshikt, you need advance planning. Which, as you already know, is not my strong suit.

Case in point: My neighbor shows me her Temu construction-themed mishloach manos bags two days before Tu B’Shevat. Two days. Before Tu B’Shevat.

I am flabbergasted.