Everyone who knows me knows that I am a list sort of girl. Just like I am a stationary sort of girl. OK so lists might not be the coolest thing I could like, but they sure help me out in a difficult situation.
Take holidays for example. Before I go, I make a list of all the things I could potentially need. My overactive mind goes off on one and I ponder about whether there will be a monsoon in San Francisco or whether it will rain in Vegas. Will I need climbing shoes for San Diego? (Answer: no. Which is good as I don’t own any) I list adaptors, camera chargers, bikinis, spare needles in case my insulin pen breaks, spare contact lenses. If there was an apocalypse and food ran out, the best place to look for an emergency tin of beans might be my case. Just sayin’ 🙂
It might be a little over enthusiastic and was a regular bone of contention for first boyfriend and me. I would ask him if he had a list. He would say no. I would kindly offer to write him a list. He would decline. I would merrily go about my business. Upon arrival at one destination I was met with this.
Himself “Babe, don’t say I told you so.”
Me “I cannot confirm or deny this. I make no promises”.
Himself. “I forgot my sunglasses. (long pause) and my swimming trunks”
For a holiday in Portugal. Smug me declined to comment, but pottered about the house looking smug and pleased with myself.
It happens at work too. If I am feeling particularly manic and like I might just burst into flames for absolutely no reason, I turn a page in my notebook to find a crisp white background and delicate lines, ready to be a blank canvas for whatever I wish to write. I put the day, and the date, and then I list. I am left-handed but have neatly cursive handwriting, and I take care to ensure my list looks as organised as possible in as little time as I can. And as I go about my day, I cross them off ever so lightly so I can at least marvel over the progress I have made. I do find however that for every one you cross off, another three spring up, like unwanted weeds in the grass. But hey, you can’t have everything, can you!
What silly little things make you feel better?