I’ve been a list-making freak since as far back as I can
remember. My early ones consisted of plotting
decades out at a time – none of this shopping list malarkey; that was for
amateurs. No, I’d find myself indexing
years of activities in one sitting –
usually during French lessons in the sixth form (that’s almost 30 years ago. Yikes!).
And they were mental (my lists, not French lessons). On one occasion, I recall indexing a ten-year
period with a Top 5 that went something like this:
1.Pass A Levels
2. Get degree
3.Start Career – businesswoman (stock broking)
4.Get flat
5.Think about marriage
Not even joking.
Is it any wonder really that I went on to live my 20s in a
perpetual state of anxiety? Crossing off each item took years! Talk about projecting. It was a totally nuts approach to
planning. Most of those things did
actually come to pass but only as small punctuations to what was otherwise the
narrative of my life just ambling along in the interim.
Relationships came and went, people died, others were born,
friends got married, flats were bought, then sold but the biggest surprise was the
year I chucked in my career to go travelling at the age of 29. So I never did get to become a stock
broker. And a good thing too as I’m shit
at maths.
In between passing my A levels and getting round to ‘thinking
about marriage’, I made crap loads more lists though these took a much shorter
term view than the big picture teenage stuff and although they dealt with the
minutiae they were no less bonkers . Sometimes they’d barely cover a few hours worth
of activity, stuff like:
1.
Get up
I mean, I’ll stop myself there…seriously? Get up? I would actually make a list the night before
and start with ‘Get up’. Who does
that? A mental patient maybe. As if I was in danger of forgetting what I
needed to do on waking. Next would
follow something like:
2.
Shower
3.
Get dressed
4.
Have breakfast
5.
Bus to HMV – get application form
I promise you that was an actual to do list from around the time
I first graduated and was looking for a in between job. Holy Mackeral.
Eventually when I did get a proper job, the compulsion to
write lists subsided dramatically. I had
no time to write lists out anymore. Instead
they happened in my head. It was I’m
sure a form of OCD.
One night I made a mental list of how I was going to clean
the flat. A room by room strategic
cleaning plan. DEMENTED. I have no doubt this must have made me a very
difficult person to live/be with. But
then again, I must have provided some sort of entertainment as my first
boyfriend stayed with me for twelve years and my ex-husband for ten. And that flat was bloody clean….
When I think about it, I believe my need to write lists was
linked to that wonderful release that comes with having accomplished something.
Some days to be fair, getting up was an
accomplishment though I tend to set the bar somewhat higher today. I think.
I was cleaning out some papers the other morning when I came
across a list I’d made a few years earlier of a number of flat viewings I had
booked with an estate agent. A normal
list one might say. But under the last
entry, my then husband had added the following:
12:00 Buy a diary
12:30 Nap from all the confusion
2:00 Wake up and wonder
I guess I wasn’t fooling him.
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| Champion List Maker |
