The last few weeks have been completely hectic and full of odd little moments. However, to try and recall everything in a cogent manner would require my being in completely different state of mind. Um, sane. While Boy Wonder has mercifully finished 4th grade, my list of things to do seems to be breeding. Wildly breeding. Beyond your imagination or any pathetic analogies I can muster, breeding. Which makes me wonder, why is it my “list” gets to have sex and I don’t? Oh yeah, because it’s not on my list.
And I have to say–this break-neck speed at which I’m attempting to travel is rather difficult to navigate and well, not so scenic. I’m looking forward to slowing down. Evidently, that might be when I’m dead.
I have two responses to chaos. The first is to get organized. In a pitiful attempt to stem the onslaught of list fertility, I vainly strike out at everything within reach of finishing. Oh yeah, Friday is the 16th Anniversary of that day when people expect you to don a frumpy dress, (fashionable at the time, but will be the cause of much mocking by your future offspring) walk down an aisle carrying a veritable allergy attack, and pledge your allegiance troth (what the hell is a troth, anyhow?) to the other dressed up person standing in front of the minister. I should figure out what gift to get my counterpart in this past crime of fashion. And once I figure that out, I should go get it. And MARK IT OFF MY LIST. Death to gift!
So. I ask dear IZ what he wants for our anniversary, as it is just days away and I’m trying hard to be fruitful and not let my list multiply. His answer? One word. Sex.
Ok. Sex on Friday, check. Apparently, I do get to have sex as it is now on my list. Look closely, dear reader, for this postmodern romance at its height!
Included on my list of things to do in the next ten days is submit a proposal for 4 workshops in Spirituality to be done in the next year. Yes, that’s right folks, past my non-paying, let’s take advantage of the intern, internship. Them be paying gigs. Or, they will be if I ever get my proposal in. And then there is the banner series I want to get done for the summer. So that when the kites come down in July, the sanctuary doesn’t feel completely naked. Naked church sounds scary, right? Nobody wants to see that! Banners mean paint, paint means. . .
Oh! Oh! Oh! My list just handed me an update, and it appears that my house has put in the following request by memo:
“Dear home ownerish type, could you please finish what you started 10 months ago? Your parents are coming in 9 days and I don’t want to be seen in this state of undress. Naked Church will have to wait, I was first in line!”
MY PARENTS ARE COMING? How come I’m always the last to know these things, huh? Oh, refer to the list. I see. Yes, it is there. In the fine print. Very clever. S i g h. There is no end to this. Breeding. Breeding. Good grief, get a room!
The second way of dealing with the chaos involves my addiction to pot. However, even here the organization has the upper hand. A last minute trip to Portland on Sunday supplied me with the necessary plant life to put in the new bed in the back yard. However, gardening appears on the list with a contingency. Observe:
- Clean your pit of a house before the health inspector condemns it.
- Laundry… you know, that stuff you put on your body so other people don’t see how fat you’ve gotten? Yeah, DO THAT.
- Speaking of your misshapen body–try exercising.
- If these things get done AND the sun comes out (which means you should just stop holding your breath NOW. You live in Oregon, remember?) go out and put in those plants.
Kill Joy.
So, you can see, dear reader, I find myself in the hands of a wicked, sarcastic, malcontented, sex-addicted list that will NOT let me rest. The only reason I’m even writing this is because on the bottom of that list are the following words: Update Your Blog.
this is why i don’t make lists. the narcicist turned me off of those long befoer the virus could take over. and you know, i can’t even find my calendar. really i just assume that if it really needs to get done, then i’ll remember it. if it didn’t need to happen i will have “magically” forgotten about it. it helps with not feeling like i’m on a hamster wheel.
hey, at least you don’t have to go shopping for an anniversary present… 😉
Fundamentally, I’m against lists. They take over your life. However, if I didn’t resort to them there is NO WAY I could juggle everything I do. Right now, life is just too complicated to not keep track of where I’m supposed to be and all the details. Internship wise, I’m on my own. Details fall through the cracks, I’m the girl who crawls on her knees through the sewer to get them. So, yeah, I’ll take a list to keep that from happening. On the Boy Wonder front, well, his well-being at school depends on my being on top of all the details. AND BOY ARE THERE DETAILS. Who knew? We won’t talk about my start-up practice, house renovations, and my never ending landscaping project. Hee… Pot is good.
When and if I ever get back to just managing me, you can count on my throwing out the planner. Until then, I’ll take it all in triplicate. And try remember it’s suppose to help my life, not take over it. 🙂
Funny. So, are your lists asexual? Do they accomplish reproduction through cellular division or is it something more insideous? Borrowing from another Star Trek… your lists sound like the Borg… “Resistance is Futile”
The Borg are SO J…
Hell no, my lists keep me up at night, banging away. 🙂
Thing is, I’m so not “J” and would prefer to just let things happen. However, if I did that, other people would suffer besides me because I’m doing too much to keep it all in the air w/o some sort of plan. Ultimately, I think my lament isn’t really about the listing, despite the conceit I used in the the piece–it’s about how much there is to be done. Too much. Too damn much.
I need a vacation. NOT to Disney World. Heh.
Yes, I can hear it now… “I will not like Disney World, Sam I Am. I will not like it not EVEN with green eggs and ham. Not with a mouse, not with a duck, not with a witch, not even with Stitch…”
But seriously, I know what you mean about lists. Repeat after me… “Lists are our friends. Lists help me bring sanity to what would be an otherwise unmanageable mess. Lists bring order. Lists bring control. Lists let you know you are getting ahead. Lists keep you on target… besides, we are the Borg and resistance IS futile…
Excuse me, when did Star Trek and Disney become part of the wooing ritual? Huh?
Honestly, there is an obvious solution to my problem. I need an assistant. Since YOU seem so enamored of lists… want the job? 🙂
Repeat after me: HAWAII.
Yes. I agree. Here’s where I think we should go: http://www.grandwailea.com/
DO YOU GUYS EVER TALK FOR REALS???
I have many lists as well. And living in this house, with a pending move, has really knocked me off kilter because now I am in flux. I must pack, but I am not leaving for two months, so, on the other hand, I have to have it look kind of okay for when hubby’s parents come. But I feel defeated at the same time, before I’ve even started, because I KNOW I won’t be able to make the place look really any good Thank goodness they’re stayin’ at the Red Lion!
Carrie,
WHAT??? I’m supposed to talk to him in PERSON? Great, just great. Add another thing to my list. You know, Carrie, you’re suppose to be helping here!
Moving is the devil. A neighbor told us when we moved that three moves equaled a fire. I don’t agree–but it’s an interesting observation.
I don’t like lists much, but I make them compulsively. At my age, one forgets easily! Good luck with yours–hee hee
Maybe if you got over your “addiction to pot”, you’d find life a little less hectic. Or more hectic? I can’t remember now. Heh. It seems you’d have a better memory; that’s what it is.
Margaret: Thanks! I need all the good wishes I can get.
Pam: ha ha ha ha. No way in heck am I giving up “pot”. If I can’t garden, there is NO point in living. I managed to get all my new plants into the back-yard bed during the sun break today. My house, however, is still a pit. And unpainted.
And for the casual reader: “pot” does NOT = cannabis, marijuana, and certainly NOT WEED(s). heh. Weeds are bad. Very bad.
And the garden does indeed look lovely. Now if we can convince the grass to grow…
As for talking in person, the key to a great marriage is Instant Messenger… 16 years and counting as of 6/16. Makes a magical date sound even more impressive when you say it like that…