Lists

To say that I like lists seems too mild. To say that I love lists would be too extreme and an inappropriate use of the word love as I believe it to be. I am a happy list maker. It is genetic. I know this because my father is a list maker.

I am old fashioned in my list making. I write my lists by hand; no technology can replicate the satisfaction of writing a list. I make only one exception to that rule; I keep a wish list on Amazon. The only items on that list are books for my Kindle. I make my purchases from that list and it is not one that is seen by others.

I have a list of my lists. That may be going overboard but it grounds me somewhat so that I don't start a list about the same topic. I am not picky about where I write my lists. I don't have a special pen designated for list writing. I use post its, the back of envelopes, pads of paper, the back of receipts, the date book I carry in my purse.

When I am reading a book, I make a list of interesting words that I find in the narrative. Some are interesting because I honestly have never heard the term before, others are interesting because of the context they are used in. I have a personal to-do list. If there is a time constraint on a certain item on that list, the date is written next to it. I have a list that I keep between my monthly doctor's appointments. On that list are questions about or observations that I have made of my health.

I have a list of people I should email and touch base with. Another of people that I should call. I even keep a list of wrongs that need to be righted.

I don't need a list to know that I wash the sheets every Sunday; routine items I can keep track of. I will admit that there are some mornings that I need to check what day it is. Not because it would be a grievous error to wash the sheets on Saturday instead of Sunday, but so that I know if it is a day that my children need to be up for school at a specific time.

One might imagine that with all these lists that I would have no room for spontaneity but that would be a wrong assumption. I have learned to be flexible because I need to be. I need to be flexible around my children's needs, the needs of our household as a whole and I need to be spontaneous around my own physical needs and limitations. Somehow, though, the sheets do get washed almost always on Sunday; more often, if necessary.

One of the most satisfying part of writing lists is taking pen in hand and crossing something off of a list. If I take a list with me to the supermarket , I cross off each item as it lands in my cart. By the time i reach the cashier, I am almost giddy if all the items have a slash through them. When I get home I can then scratch "go to the supermarket" off of my to do list. I know that it will be rewritten again at some point, but I cannot help but bask in the feeling of crossing something off of the to do list.

Now that this post is written, I can cross lists off of my list of blog post ideas. I feel the pull of the pen waiting to be put to paper and cross that line off. One more item off of my to do list for today, as well.