I am a hoarder of folded papers and chicken scratch. I love lists like Lindsay loves booze and Paris loves animals that fit in her purse (Has anyone heard that she has a teacup pig? I did not know this, but now I want one).
Just about every week, I fashion a little folded piece of paper that houses my To Do list, grocery lists, birthday gift lists, lists of crafty things I want to make. You name it, I've listed it. Without my lists, I feel lost. And sometimes I write stuff down just so I can cross it off and feel like I've been extra productive.
But this week, in my freaky WhatNow newlywed phase, I started to question The Lists. Because even though Mr. W and I are desperate to lay down details about our future, we also seem to be totally mired in continual To Dos. I've been feeling like I have no time to just be. And The Lists might be the biggest culprit.
So I've been living listless for the past several days. I don't know yet if it's really having a huge impact on my "being" time. But it sort of makes me feel a little more spontaneous. And I think it may help stave off my early-onset Alzheimer's because it's forcing me to actually remember things rather than just looking at my paper scraps for a reminder.
We'll see how it goes. Although there's no way I'll be able to pack for Italy next week without my clothing matrix...