Unlisted

Lists are the bane of existence, and bucket lists are my least favorite. A friend had a bucket list, and when he finished it, there was nothing left to live for. His work associates thought him shallow, uninspiring, and tepid. In response, he devised a new list with goals like climbing K-4, Running with the bulls in Pamplona, and other riskier ventures. Then, he realized that he couldn’t afford the airfare to any of the locations on his budget.

Lists are dangerous. Just take the proverbial “honey do list” that has been the bane of many a spouse’s leisure time; no bowling for you until the yard work is done, then unclog the drains and put up the new cabinets. How droll.

Lists tend to cluster, they need each other for mutual support. Visit a friend and look on the refrigerator. There it is, the dreaded grocery list. Run off to the store without it and get a shoe thrown at you because you forgot the paper towels. Digging deeper, are the less innocuous things that don’t seem to be lists but are: diet plans, weekly menus, calendars filled out with the days you should go to the gym, and appointments.

Ask yourself where in this rigidity of life is going? Where is the scheduled time for you to sit in the garden, smell the lavender, and play with that husky pup your daughter brought over?

Ahhh. It’s that time. Let’s get the fire pit going. And to get it going good, collect all those frickin’ lists as kindling.
Nice blaze. The lists did have a purpose anyway.