I make lists for just about everything. Shopping, to do, to pack, to make, menu planning, baby names. You name it, I have probably listed it. Sometimes I make lists and check them off as I complete them. Sometimes I do a whole bunch of stuff and then write up a list of what I actually finished just so that I can cross off everything.
Tonight I am planning on making a list of all the things I want to accomplish this weekend. One of the things on my list will be to make a shopping list. It's a
Later, I find those lists... in tattered, Crayffiti'd, spiral notebooks. They usually make me laugh, immediately reminding me of a frenzied packing trip before I flew out of town for work. Or I huff, because the list silently scolds me for still being behind on laundry or dishes or scrubbing something that is dirty. Fully checked off or not, they usually find their way to the burn barrel, to go up in smoke and pollute the atmosphere the way their content polluted my brain.**
Here are some examples:
|This is a part shopping, part to do list. This is from when I was on the Depo shot. |
Grumpier and obviously a little scattered. Notice all the different ink colors and arrows.
|An example of Crayffiti.|
|To do/to cook. Not my best doodles. Maybe spring time (flowers). |
Looks like Buffy (Jason's buffalo) had just come in from the taxidermist.
|Guessing this was spring or fall. I usually sort through clothes then. |
No telling if the zucchini was fresh or frozen that I was trying to use.
Some lists provide closure. Some lists help me sort my madness. I have apps for lists on my phone, yet I alway return to pen and paper. Scratching and scribbling helps keep me sane. Like doodling helps me stay focused. Few can decipher my handwriting. Sometimes, even I can't. And it's probably better that way.