Lists

I hate lists.

They are tiny little ultimatums that sneer and snarl at me all the time.

When I left home for college I heard this phrase about once a week: "Make a list!"

Thanks Mom. Yeah. I know what I need to do. I'm pretty sure I can find things to eat. Right! Bank, gotta go there. It's 1993. I'm going to the bank. Every week.

Both a chore and a pleasure. That is until "DIRECT DEPOSIT" was invented. No. More. Bank. Hells yeah.

So anyway, my wife is a list maker. Always has been. Me, my lists tend to be wish lists.


Case in point:

1. Do dishes
2. Fold laundry that's been in the dryer for three days.
3. Water lawn
4. Rebuild garage
5. Change light bulb in living room.
6. What is that smell?
7. Refinish cabinets in kitchen, guest bath, master bath, and office.
8. Replace windows, they get an Energy Star Rating of "Just-Keep-Them-Open-At-Least-There's-A-Breeze".
9. Change oil in car
10. Paint house
11. Sob hysterically, I think my foundation is cracked.

Found this gem:

It's in Glitter Blue

When Zoey was about three years old she started making lists. The above picture is an example of dozens and dozens of "lists" she had made. And, she hasn't stopped. Somewhere around here we have her first Christmas wish list. It's a piece of paper covered in giant check marks. Every time she saw something she liked, she added a check mark. Hilarious.

Today her handwriting is more precise.

And more specific

I really don't like lists.