It occurred to me last night that I am living by lists; grocery lists, errand lists, a bucket list. Good grief, I start on New Year’s Eve and lay out a plan for the upcoming year, God willing I live through it. I even have categories. I even keep a list of the books I read and from what category – fiction, non-fiction.
This all started when someone talked about having “a program”. It wasn’t necessary to adhere to it exactly, but to have it in order to save myself from hurry and indecision. You see, there was a time in my life when I didn’t have lists. I just jumped from one thing to another like a grasshopper. “Let’s try this! Oh, let’s try that! Oh, what’s that over there? Looks interesting!”
It was fun, but made everyone around me dizzy.
Then I started wondering if this modus operandi had put me in handcuffs.
Do you ever feel guilty when you don’t complete your “to do” list? I do. Somehow, writing “to do” items on a piece of paper makes it more difficult to give myself some wiggle room. It’s there in black and white. I have to complete those five, six, seven, however many items, or I haven’t done my work for the day. Or (gasp!) I add the unfinished items to the next day’s list.
I needed to do a little editing. I scratched out “To Do,” and wrote “Possibilities.”