I have always been a list maker. A friend once teased that, “Her lists have lists.” But the joke was true. I even have a master list of packing lists for all kinds of trips: there is the New York City Packing list and the Cape Cod list and the Kripalu or Retreat list and the Camping Trip list. I mean, really, these are vastly different undertakings, no?
Another list memory: my first husband—and this may be why he is an ex-husband—once wrote on my daily to-do list: “Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale….”.
But even at that I have defended my lists. Outer order balancing inner chaos perhaps. But my defense has always been that I get a lot done.
But yesterday reading a new wonderful novel called “April & Oliver” by Tess Callahan I read this line:
“Lists are for people who don’t do what they want.”
It struck me to the core. If I was doing what I relay wanted would I need a list?