I love lists. There, I said it aloud. I’m a list maker – highly organized and slightly annoyed when the world doesn’t adhere to my neatly arranged order. Similar to Santa and his never ending catalog, I make lists for every area of my life. I like my lists, I love my lists…I need my lists.
Amidst all my pen jotting, I enjoy the sense of accomplishment derived in every strict black line eliminating a task on my inventory of aspirations. Another dragon slayed, another victory won. It’s a ridiculous fascination…but one I own proudly. A part of my personality. A glance into my psyche.
Writing lists to get things done is not only a source of organization. Its about goal setting and planning. Its about developing a strategy and managing time. Its about control and a way to make my world more manageable…more acceptable, because otherwise I’d become completely overwhelmed.
As a dedicated list maker I’ve become hardly a risk taker in my effort to remember everything I need to do from shopping and cleaning, to sorting tasks for today, tomorrow, next week. I have lists for long and short term goals, lists for “when I have the time“, “some day in the future“, and “if all the planets align“.
Sheepishly I confess, there are lists within my lists…sub-lists where I mark points not to forget as if my lists are a living entity who in themselves need lists to stay on the straight and narrow. There is no hope for my malady…a desire to keep life neat and tidy, but I continually try; never thwarted.
When things go awry I simply make a new list. Who doesn’t love the crisp freshness of a brand new draft written in demanding black ink? It taunts “Go ahead, I dare you…finish every item. Then what are you going to do?” Oh, I love a good challenge, don’t you? Now I’m off to get to work. My list awaits.
A silly list just for fun…although a few ideas are tempting.