I Have a Confession

I’d like to say I am opposed to list making because I object to the control lists impose upon individual freedom. But I confess that the real reason I am opposed to lists is I’m not good at it. I accept, endorse and applaud things I’m good at. But lists aren’t one of those things. 

I have given lists a chance. But invariably they wander off to the floor of my car or the bottom of a laundry bag. Some of the more adventurous lists venture out to reside in shopping carts for several days. They have the pleasure of meeting scores of people and passing by many delicious treats. Other brave lists  explore the wilds of the parking lot until their adventure is ceased by cleaning equipment and they are dispatched to a landfill. 

I know that lists are good. They do provide order in today’s very busy and complex world. Lists weren’t really needed a couple hundred years ago. If you bothered with a list back then it might read simply- “Chop firewood. Shoot buffalo. Eat Buffalo. Sleep”. You can see why lists weren’t popular back in the old days. I suppose most people didn’t know how to read or write too, which would hinder list making.

Today lists are lengthy and they are necessary. Today’s lists might read- 

-Check emails and texts. 

-Monitor the temperature, humidity and pollen in the living room. 

-Send email to 15 members of the Save the Turkey Vulture club. 

-Set a reminder on smartwatch to put out the trash at 3 PM.

-Check the number of steps you have averaged over the past week, or year. 

-Order Utz Dark Russet potato chips from Amazon. 

-Check Wolf Blitzer to determine which disaster we should follow today. 

-Order a pizza, without anchovies of course. 

You can see the difference here between a busy man of today compared with the pioneer of the old west. But today I know I have to improve my list making or face extinction. If Darwin was right, and who would argue with Charles, the only folks left to pass on the genes of our species will be the list makers. The survivors of this challenging world will be OCD folks. Obsessive Compulsive Disorder won’t be an actual disorder in the future, it will be a required trait. Those who are list challenged will be called LMD- List Making Disability. 

I know I must stay ahead of this pending decline. But my early attempts at list making have been fitful and unsuccessful. The first hurdle is to actually make the list. I find it hard to prioritize. “Pat the dog” gets mixed in with “check the plutonium rods in the reactor”, “keep your appointment with the IRS investigator” and “remove python from the pool” 

The next hurdle is storage. I have found lists in my freezer, in the flower pot on the lanai, in my swim trunks pocket, in my medicine cabinet and in my coffee cup holder in the car. They seem to reside briefly in my hand then they get placed wherever that hand travels. 

Assuming you can find your list the final hurdle is actually executing the list. The dog always gets the attention first. It’s easy and he’s handy. He pretty much is there all the time and more than happy to get a pat. But the dog distracts me. He looks out the window, asks for a treat, or he taps out a coded message about which stocks to buy. I can’t always blame the dog to be honest. Random thoughts are my constant companion. 

Since LMD  is now a real thing, we can begin to address treatment methods. LMD is largely confined to men. Women have more comfort with lists for some strange reason.  I would recommend that you seek a woman to be your sponsor in recovery- your wife, girlfriend, mother, or fitness coach at the local gym. They will be able to supply support in your 12 step recovery program. They will offer a good dose of tough love.

Of course, step 1 is the most important- “I am powerless over my LMD and I am out of control in my life without lists”. Step 4 isn’t all that hard though- “Write a list of specific events where failure to make a list has caused serious problems in your life”. You should stop after a few hundred of these incidents in order to get some sleep. Besides, writing about all your failures may desensitize you to the seriousness of your disorder. It might even be fun to write about all your mishaps. So stop at 200.

Step 5 is a bit hard- “Confess, in great detail, to another party a single serious setback caused by your failure to make a list”. First, it’s difficult to pick which one of the 200 is tops on your list. Then it’s hard to see how the problem blossomed into a life changing course. For example, my failure to make a list on 4/15/69 led to my forgetting to mail the taxes on time, big penalties, loss of income, taking out a loan, reparations, hair loss, misplaced dentures and a loss of my COSTCO card.

So, with this recent struggle to maintain lists I am happy to report I have earned my 30 day recovery chip. I reported this to my wife and claimed I was well on my way to recover. I proudly displayed my most recent list with each item crossed off. She smiled and said- “Very good, but this is a list from three months ago”. I had no idea that a list could find its way home from the COSTCO parking lot. Back to step 1.

But wait. Maybe there is a place for the list impaired in the world. I will write down a list of the top 10 benefits of life without lists. Let’s see. Where did I put my pen?