I have a confession. 

It’s not terribly juicy. 

But it is incredibly awesome. 

I’ve been taking an online class. Just for fun. It’s about Celtic women in medieval literature and history. 

Our first assignment was a 4,000-word essay. I wrote about a 15th-century Welsh bard famous for composing a poem to her nether regions. 

I haven’t had that much fun since my grad school literature professor let me expand a 10-page writing assignment to a 30-page writing assignment. 

Expanding writing assignments is my specialty. When my editors first approached me for this column, their mandate was a weekly, 250-word dispatch. 

And I have kept it at 250 words.

Times four. 

Once a week, there’s a live lecture for the Celtic class. It’s at four in the afternoon. 

United Kingdom time, because that’s where the professor lives. 

So I have to convert four o’clock to military time. Then I subtract five to get the time I should log in here, in the northeastern United States. 

And then add one, because we’re on daylight savings time, but the U.K. isn’t. 

This week, the lecture link was for two o’clock U.K. time, not four. 

OK. 

Convert, subtract, add … 10 in the morning for me. Got it. Adding it to the dry erase board and … done. 

Then my husband sent a text to our family group chat.  

“Kids,” he said, “there goes your college fund.” 

The text linked to an article from The Washington Post. 

“Gwyneth Paltrow,” it read, “is auctioning her luxury wardrobe.” 

Um, excuse me? 

Just step off. That luxury wardrobe is mine. Unless you know somebody else who was flooded with welfare texts from concerned friends when Gwyneth and Chris Martin split up. 

Other than, you know, Gwyneth and Chris Martin. 

Willie hates my idolization of G.P. — that’s what her goop staff calls her, G.P. — because she thinks I’m too smart for such things. 

She also thinks I’m prettier than Gwyneth. I’ll paraphrase Can’t Hardly Wait here and say, OK, I’m not prettier than Gwyneth. 

I haven’t seen all of her movies. I don’t even like all of her movies. But I have bought goop products — yes, little “g” — and I own all of her cookbooks. I only cook recipes from Gwyneth’s cookbooks.  

Well, and hunting cookbooks. 

I checked out the Gwyneth auction. Just for fun, like the Celtic women class. She’s, like, a millionaire. And besties with Stella McCartney. And had sex with Brad Pitt.  

I will never afford anything in the G.P. auction. 

Huh. A blazer and a plaid shirt are getting auctioned as a pair. The opening bid is $75.  

I — I can afford $75. 

I mean, thank goodness I bought The Hobbit used for $4.12, am I right? Imagine if I’d spent the extra $10 to buy it new. I’d have to write two hundred and fifty words times eight if I wanted a brand-new Tolkien and Gwyneth’s hand-me-downs. 

The shirt-blazer duo was set for auction at ten o’clock Pacific Standard Time on the same day as the Celtic lecture. 

Great. More math. 

OK. Add three hours to ten o’clock. That’s one my time. Checking the calendar and…we’re good. Celtic lecture at ten. Auction at one. 

Then I opened my email.  

My horror podcast planned to announce the genre of the next season in a livestream. 

The same day as the Celtic lecture and the auction. 

OK. Horror podcast livestream is at eight in the evening U.K. time — the host will have a beer ready, I’m sure of it — so convert, subtract, add … that’s four in the afternoon my time. 

Have I mentioned I failed high school algebra? Twice? 

Adding the horror livestream to my calendar … ten, one, four. This is going to be a great day. An amazing day.  

It’s like that day I was helping Willie with the dying Indy, then my aunt called me for help with her husband who was also dying, then the school called me with an emergency with my kids, then Indy died and I was told the real problem with Indy dying six days before Christmas was that nobody had planned Christmas dinner.

Except, you know, the exact opposite of that day. 

That these virtual events were not only happening on the same day, but a day I had no obligations — it felt like a reward for not faking my death instead of hosting that Christmas dinner. 

At 10 o’clock my time, two o’clock U.K. time, the Celtic lecturer sent an email. The lecture was actually at four U.K. time, not two. 

Doing the math and … no! 

That’s noon — only an hour before the auction goes live. What if the lecture runs over time? What if I can’t get into the auction? What if my computer can’t livestream both events at the same time? WHAT IF I HAVE TO HOST CHRISTMAS DINNER?! 

Did it all work out? Did the Celtic lecture finish before the auction? Did I get into the auction? Did I bid on the dress I know Gwyneth wore on the red carpet when she was pregnant with her son? 

Yep. Can’t remember my husband’s work schedule, can remember what Gwyneth wore and when she wore it. 

I have another confession to make. 

I made a bid. 

Let’s meet at six o’clock U.K. time to talk about it. 

By the time I’ve figured out the math, it’ll be next week.