One of us has definitely gotten our dates wrong. And it's definitely not me.

If there's one thing that I'm good at, it's planning and keeping things organized. Okay, that's two things, but they're related, and they are the most crucial aspects of who I am.

I am a professional organizer.

So what if that national brand didn't want to partner with me, and those TV star entrepreneurs said "no deal."

I am an organizational savant!

I'm not escaping to this vacation rental to lick my wounds from my recent rejections. I just need a quiet place to regroup and plan my next move. To organize my thoughts.

And I'm very sorry for this seemingly nice guy, who has mistakenly understood that this house is his for the week.

Yes, I can see that he arrived before me. And, he obviously has a code that actually works for the lock on the front door, but I'm pretty sure the only reason my code isn't working is because he used his first, which clearly deactivated mine. I really despise when people can't maintain order.

But here we are, waiting for the property owner to return our messages. It's late. On a Friday night. For all we know, the owner lives halfway across the globe and won't see our notifications for hours.

I'm not going to a hotel. I cannot endure the stress of slamming doors and voices in the hallway all night long. I need my sleep. Peace. Solitude.

Okay, so it appears I made a teeny error in my calendar. Oops. But I'm not about to make another mistake and spend a week in a house with a total stranger. Even if he is a complete mess, who could seriously use my help.

It's not like I would benefit from helping him get his life in order.