Hi. My name is Cynthia. And I’m a listaholic.
There. I said it. I’m not proud of it, but the fact is, I’ve become addicted to something called the “To Do List.” I know – I live life on the wild side. But it’s my drug of choice. And it’s seriously out of control. Consider this blog post a cry for help.
It started as a useful tool to organize and prioritize daily necessities. When life got busy with goals, tasks, chores and errands, listing it out kept it in order. It was a crutch for sure, but a good one – one that made me feel more calm and at ease. And of course, one I could stop at any time.
Then, over the past few years, the phenomenon of the “To Do List” started to spin a little crazy. The List grew longer, eventually expanding across my desk like a rabid weed. Then it underwent a form of fission, splitting into a paper version and also a digital version. Then it took on a color code: red for “Must Do Today,” green for “Must Do Soon,” purple for “Must Do Someday,” and blue for “Can Possibly Shove Off On Husband.” Not long after, the paper version morphed into different colored Post-Its, sub-categorized with different colored markers. The Post-Its accumulated into piles, which twice a month got swept across with a feather duster (that is, if dusting happened to be at the top of one of the lists).
So I sat down the other day with four free hours, and very high hopes of tackling several things. I was practically drooling for the high – that special sense of triumph that only comes from crossing stuff off, one by one. Cut to four hours later, when something called “rock bottom” crystallized right in front of my eyes.
Nothing on the list had been done. Nothing had been accomplished or crossed out. Not one task had been addressed, not one phone call made, not one email answered, not one chore completed. BUT – the list had been re-written, re-worded, re-ordered and re-generated (three times over) into a new, improved, neatly organized List that looked up at me with truth in its eyes and said “Girl, you have a problem.”
I’m not sure what to do here. There’s no rehab for this. No 12-step program (although the thought of it appeals to me because it sort of sounds like another form of To Do List). But what’s the solution? If I quit cold turkey, the Evites won’t go out for our summer barbecue. If I Let Go and Let God, the plumber will never come to fix the shower drain (which has been broken for almost two years now).
The List goes on. But nothing ever gets done.
If you have any ideas, please let me know. I can’t say I’ll try them, but I’ll definitely welcome them, appreciate them and add them to the list. That much I can promise.