Friday, February 23, 2007

I fear that I may be a List Nazi

I have come to this realization slowly over the years. I make lists for everything. I love lists. I thrive on lists. In all honesty, I'm not sure I could function without my lists. I have shopping lists, To Do lists, pro and con lists, contact lists, lists of my lists...they are magneted to my refridgerator, tucked in my car console, folded up in jacket pockets, zippered into diaper bags.

I get this from my Dad. Robert S, as many of you may know, carries around a little spiral notebook in his shirt pocket for his lists. He writes everything down. When we are on the phone together, we are both most likely making lists simultaneously. It is a sad genetic trait. There is no satisfaction like crossing something off a list. Well, you know what I mean.

Now, mind you, these aren't SCHEDULES. I ABHOR schedules. I hate having to do things at a certain time, fit my life into someone else's day. I like to clean the kitchen at 2am, drink coffee at 4pm, take a nap at 8am. I think 24-hour supermarkets are fantastic because they allow me to peruse the cereal aisle in the middle of the night.

Occasionally, I'll throw caution to the wind and try to live a day without my lists. Usually, this is an item on my To Do list, which kind of defeats the whole purpose. Example:

Finish the laundry
See if Goodwill accepts children at their donation center
Buy Dr. Seuss stamps
Don't make lists today

So far, no luck.

Is this wrong? Am I being unfair to that side of me that searches for internal spontaneity? I'll probably need to make a list to figure it out. But, just perhaps, that's okay. At least, for now.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

When I'm a-walkin', I strut my stuff

Before I begin, I would just like to note two things:
1. The title of this blog has nothing to do with anything. I just have the Violent Femmes stuck in my head. Which, actually, isn't a bad thing because it means that I was finally able to get the fucking B-52s out of my head after Bellamy listened to "Love Shack" at least 50 times.
2. I have an incredibly bad headache, concentrated on the left side of my head. I MIGHT be having an aneurysm. And that MIGHT be okay, if it makes my headache better.

Now, onward.

I am drowning in a sea of frustration. At this very moment, my Mom is in a recovery room in Houston where a biopsy has just been performed on a tumor in her liver. Doctors think the cancer is back--from breast to liver, although we won't know the results for days. This sucks. Cancer sucks.

Sunday was my Dad's birthday. I was supposed to go home to TN to see him. I wasn't able to go because he wasn't there--he's in Houston with Mom. Thus, the cancer (or, perhaps, psuedo-cancer, depending on the results of the biopsy) wins again. The trip has been postponed.

Those are the big things that are wrong. Now for the little things.

My daughter may well be possessed by the devil, as she has decided that she is not, in fact, a little girl but, instead, a snapping turtle. She growls and snaps and won't answer to her name. I actually have to call her "Turtle" if I want her to respond. To my knowledge, she has never encountered a snapping turtle, and I don't know where this precious little phase came from.

Next, I hate Presidents Day. It screws the mail all up, which in turn, screws my brain all up. Enough said. When I rule the world, I fully intend to revamp all the holidays according to my own selfish wants and needs.

Ugh. Headache.

More later.