I tend to be rather cerebral—I’m sure you never noticed that (oh, hi, you must be new here)—and as such, December has a way of knocking me into… I wouldn’t say a downward spiral, exactly, but a spiral more like a dog trying to chase its tail while on a staircase. There are so many THINGS that happen this month, so many reminders of what isn’t and what I wish wasn’t, and at some point in the month (if not at multiple points), I’m overwhelmed by a pervasive desire both to refuse to get out of bed AND to clone myself so that I can be everywhere I’m supposed to be. I suppose if that cloning thing ever works out, I can just hide under the covers and send my clones out to take care of life for me.
Some people are “To Do List” sorts of people. They derive great pleasure from crossing things off a list, and so they make lists with abandon. I am allergic to lists. I don’t know why this is, but I have a strong aversion to them. I suspect they make me feel inadequate, even though, yes, I KNOW, I could write “Make a list” as my first item and then cross it off, LIKE A BOSS. I suspect poor Otto had a moment of doubt about this whole marriage thing when he discovered that I never make a shopping list, which means I’m quite likely to return from the store with a trunkful of groceries but having forgotten the one thing we truly needed.
How To Pretend To Be A Responsible Adult Yet Be Completely Disorganized: my forthcoming book. (And by “forthcoming” I mean “never ever happening, because I suspect it would require some organizational skills I lack.”) (more…)