For each day I affront, there is a list. The listed items represent both large tasks and small. No thing is not worth mentioning; not worth getting down so that I can then axe it with a ball point pen.
(This is a sample list, though it is representative of most lists, give/or take/or slightly alter a couple items. Like, sometimes, I make coffee for Nic; sometimes, I brush my own teeth; sometimes, I call Courtney, or Amber,or…; and almost every day, I just straight up cross out shower. With a Sharpie.)
- Make coffee
- Give baby a bath
- Do laundry
- Eat lunch
- Brush Bela’s teeth
- Call Lisa
- Send out consumer complaint emails
- Read flagged articles
- Go to work
(Most days, I get only #1, #4 and #10 done.)
If there are lines through the majority of the items, you will find a happy and proud little gal. If the list looks as though it has just been made — or worse — heavily altered…you are bound to find a ball of anxiety, cursing or crying, walking the halls like a caged lion.
My lists outline my purpose; they seek to give me peace. If the tangible is doable, then I have got a real handle on this life.
My beloved lists reveal just the opposite, of course. They are an exhibition of competency, for a being that is unable to feel competent. The shadows on the page whisper, then bellow. “There is more work to do, Kelly. So much more work to do.”