I am all about making lists. Grocery lists. Lists of gratitude. “Odes” to the people I love. To-do lists. Calendars. Prayer requests. Birth plans. Recipes. Long-term goals. Outlines for your thesis you haven’t yet written. Ahem.
(Some of you you might remember my 30×30 list–the 30 things I wanted to accomplish before I turned 30. As it turns out, I made it through about a third of them, but I also did something huge that kind of interrupted my life during this past year.)
I especially love to-do lists.
In fact, I may or may not put things on my to-do lists that I’ve already done just so that I can start my day off with a sense of accomplishment. But I do rarely accomplish all of the items on my lists for the day.
I’m not sure I ever have, actually. Not only are my lists impractically ambitious, but I often leave the list in whatever book I’m reading, or in my purse, or in the car, or by the computer where I don’t look at it until weeks later when the bills and books and other paraphernalia piled on top of it get moved.