People who live by lists fascinate me. Their structure, their ability to control what they are doing, when they are doing it, who they are doing it with, where they are doing it, and knowing why they are doing it makes me envious. My life is chaos in need of being put in its place. Full time job, part-time student, blog writer, husband, father for 12 and 15-year-old boys one of whom is in high school marching band, church three times a week, an aspiring writer, and sometime in there I have to sleep. There are not enough hours in the day for everything I need or want to do, nor is it possible to make more, I’ve tried. Luckily the wormhole I “accidentally” created only lasted a second, though it did suck in my favorite coffee cup.
I want to live by a list. I want to have a calendar that dictates what I am supposed to be doing at each available moment. I want to be a stickler to the list and I want to love being that stickler.
I’ve written lists. I’ve planned my days out down to the hour. Unfortunately, I don’t have the discipline to stick to the plan. There is always something grabbing my brain, yanking me off on a tangent away from the plan. I’m powerless to the Yank. The Yank introduces itself to me,
Hello. We’ve met before. You don’t like me, but there is something over here that isn’t important. Come. See the sparkle.
Like a lemming smelling a cliff I take the cold hand of The Yank to fall into nothing important.
It is my weakness, my kryptonite. It is something I fight on a daily basis and most of the time lose. And it’s not that I don’t get things done, it’s just that I don’t get them done with time to spare. I tell myself the reason I’m like this is because I work better under pressure, but I don’t like the pressure. I don’t like the stress of having minutes to spare. Stress sucks. There is enough other stress in my life without the need to manufacture more.
Maybe one of these days I’ll finally get myself in order and become the list stickler I want to be. Until that time comes, The Yank will keep pulling me away to see the sparkle that isn’t there. I’ll hit my deadlines with no time to spare, my heart palpitating as I slide in just under the closing door.
Does anybody know a good Yank killer?
Inspired by Heather Bergadahl’s To-Do List Junkie.