apropos of nothing
December 13, 2005
Too Much Sugar for a Dime
"I can't go for a drink, need to go home and make a list."
I like lists. Lists make me feel happy and secure. Once you have mastered the art of list making, you never have to worry about anything other than checking the list.
I like scratching things off the list. Done. Done. Done. Emphatically done with bold red ink. Off the list.
I like lists and plans, and dates and times. Things sorted alphabetically, colour coded, dated and labeled.
I never travel anywhere without sending at least two people a copy of the photo and information page of my passport, my flight numbers, the name and number of the hotel I am staying in, and the names and numbers of all of the people I might possibly be seeing on the trip.
I am free to be a free spirit so long as everything is listed, labeled, sorted, colour coded, and scheduled in chronological order and no fewer than three people have been advised. So long as a system has been defined and an excel spreadsheet has been designed, I am a wild party.
In three weeks I am moving across the continent. This requires a list, a big list. Maybe even a team of programmers to build an application to house the list and manage the scheduling and scratching off of items on the list. There is a lot to do.
And lists make me feel happy and secure.
I am completely and utterly unable to make this list. I sit down with a glass of wine and a fresh notebook and my favourite list making pen, but I am unable to break the list down into items any smaller and more specific than move across the continent.
Without the list I am pretty much useless, and I may end up on day of departure with my socks still sorted in my sock drawer, no idea of where exactly I am going to, a half finished visa application, and nothing but three pair of clean underwear and my running shoes in my luggage.
And one line of bold red ink drawn across my list.
Posted by sasha
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