1. Write To Do List
I sat down to write my "To Do" list tonight. Instead, I am blogging about writing my "to do" list. What kind of sickness is this?
I am a list person. Sometimes I am on top of things enough that I can keep track of my "to do" list in my head. This is not one of those times. In fact, the older I get the more I need to write things down. I like to SEE the tasks I have to complete. I want it written down. I like the feeling of accomplishment when I cross something off the list. I think I am so into lists because I am also a visual person, much like men are.
Lists are essential to C. He will do ANYTHING around the house that I ask him to. Clean the bathroom? No problem. Laundry, dishes? Consider it done. The problem we have is that it must be written down (or at the very least expressed verbally) or he's lost. I like to think I am a reasonable and rational person. I begin to lose it when the wrecking ball is parked in the front yard and we're one step from being condemned; when there is not one clear path to walk on the floors in any room; when no one has clean underwear and the laundry pile is taller than my second born; and when the trash has cascaded out of the can and is now chasing me out of the kitchen anytime I attempt to go in to fix dinner. When things get like this I, understandably, get a little teensy bit irritated. I am told that I stomp around yelling "I can't STAND living like this anymore!" That's their cue that Mamma's wrath is about to descend on all of them.
It is about this time that C. will very calmly ask me what I want him to do. Apparently when I get in this agitated state, I don't give clear directions...or so they tell me. They say my eyes pop out as my head spins taking in the wreckage and I say helpful things like "What do I want you to DO?! Do SOMETHING!!" I mean damn. No one makes ME a list. The last time this little scene played out in the house C. disappeared for 2 hours. I finally stalked off looking for him and found him where? In the garage. Oh sure, he had made wonderful progress cleaning the garage. It was at this point that I thanked him for his effort and explained to him that what I had in mind was cleaning parts of the house that PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY SEE! Anyway, episodes like this have become examples of why C. really wants a list. Fine. I make him lists. I make the kids lists. And I make my own list. I am the queen of lists. This is my lot in life. I guess I accept it. Hmmm...what was my point?
Oh yes. My "to do" list. I really need to get right on that.
I am a list person. Sometimes I am on top of things enough that I can keep track of my "to do" list in my head. This is not one of those times. In fact, the older I get the more I need to write things down. I like to SEE the tasks I have to complete. I want it written down. I like the feeling of accomplishment when I cross something off the list. I think I am so into lists because I am also a visual person, much like men are.
Lists are essential to C. He will do ANYTHING around the house that I ask him to. Clean the bathroom? No problem. Laundry, dishes? Consider it done. The problem we have is that it must be written down (or at the very least expressed verbally) or he's lost. I like to think I am a reasonable and rational person. I begin to lose it when the wrecking ball is parked in the front yard and we're one step from being condemned; when there is not one clear path to walk on the floors in any room; when no one has clean underwear and the laundry pile is taller than my second born; and when the trash has cascaded out of the can and is now chasing me out of the kitchen anytime I attempt to go in to fix dinner. When things get like this I, understandably, get a little teensy bit irritated. I am told that I stomp around yelling "I can't STAND living like this anymore!" That's their cue that Mamma's wrath is about to descend on all of them.
It is about this time that C. will very calmly ask me what I want him to do. Apparently when I get in this agitated state, I don't give clear directions...or so they tell me. They say my eyes pop out as my head spins taking in the wreckage and I say helpful things like "What do I want you to DO?! Do SOMETHING!!" I mean damn. No one makes ME a list. The last time this little scene played out in the house C. disappeared for 2 hours. I finally stalked off looking for him and found him where? In the garage. Oh sure, he had made wonderful progress cleaning the garage. It was at this point that I thanked him for his effort and explained to him that what I had in mind was cleaning parts of the house that PEOPLE CAN ACTUALLY SEE! Anyway, episodes like this have become examples of why C. really wants a list. Fine. I make him lists. I make the kids lists. And I make my own list. I am the queen of lists. This is my lot in life. I guess I accept it. Hmmm...what was my point?
Oh yes. My "to do" list. I really need to get right on that.
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