Lists

My husband is a list maker.  I am not.  Lists are pressure I tell you. They are proof that you are failing.  For example, what if I actually wrote on a list, write on my blog?  It would be staring at me every day making me feel really guilty when in reality I only feel a snidge guilty but I can usually smother a snidge of guilt with a bit of chocolate.  This is like that whole Pavlov's dog thing only the bell is guilt and the dogfood is chocolate and most of the drooling is ommitted; so how bad can a little guilt be?  Not that bad--at least until you have to buy new pants or undo the button on your pants and wear long shirts.  But I'll tell you what, sweats and pajama pants are oh so nice.  They actually make you feel comfy while your equator expands.

Butt, back to lists.  My husbands puts things on his lists and crosses them off at the end of the day.  Those few times that I made a list and didn't lose it, I usually ended up staring at it at the end of the day and feeling like a LOSER because I couldn't cross off anything because who knew that Pinterest could totally suck me in, or that I'd have to find a math assignment under the couch and run it to school, or that it takes a lot longer to get crayon off a wall than on a wall, or that a hot shower could feel so good and last so long????

At the end of the day when my husband is doing all his list crossing-off with that smug look of satisfaction on his face I sometimes make an end-of-the-day list.  IF I feel like it. 

It looks something like this:

Get up
Make sure the kids go to school
Kill an hour on the computer
Eat a brownie
Brush my teeth
Take a nap
Don't write
Talk on the phone
Pick up some pizza for dinner
Don't go to the gym
Make this list
Go to bed

I then cross everything off the list and go to bed.  My husband says this is cheating while I point out that I crossed EVERYTHING off my list and he still has a few items left.