A few years ago I trained myself to be a copious list-maker. I wrote down everything I could possibly need to get to in a day, week, or month. Scratching off completed tasks felt amazing. I was actually keeping on top of things and I loved it. And then I got really sick and let all of that new training go. It didn't matter what needed doing when my whole job each day was to lie in bed and feel like crap until the next round of poison was due to be pumped into my chest port. As quickly as the good habit was built, it vanished, as if it had never been.
I've been dragging my feet on several things lately, and in the last week, suddenly a whole lot of new tasks appeared. This morning I found a notepad and started building a list. It wasn't as comprehensive as the ones from before, but it filled the small page. And suddenly with a clear plan, tasks became manageable. I paid bills. I made phone calls. (That one is big, and anxiety-producing.) I got computer work done. I wrote up a listing contract, and got it signed. The only really big thing on the list I didn't accomplish was to cancel my subscription to the Denver Post. (I honestly tried to read a real newspaper, but I just don't live that way anymore. Time to give up.)
There is a lot more to do this week. (You saw that part about there being a listing contract? There's already an offer incoming too.) I would be wise to make a whole lot more lists. Just the act of writing them longhand with a wide-tipped ballpoint pen helps imprint it all on my brain. I can't wait to draw a whole lot of checkmarks, stars, and lines all over the page to mark my progress.
I asked for a peek into baby's bedtime routine, since I didn't see her today. Among the cute pictures was a video that starts in the middle of her daddy saying something like, "Look at you! You just stood up all on your own without holding on!" That's my girl.
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