I'm a list kinda gal. Have all sorts of them ... grocery lists, other shopping lists, to-do lists (daily, weekly, long-term - all separate!), gift lists, book lists, packing lists, music I'll never learn to down-load lists ... the list goes on and on.
Lists help me through my day. They help to keep me somewhat on task. They give me a goal and a sense of direction. They show me what I've done during my day. And at the end of the day I feel like I've accomplished something.
I like to organize and plan. I like to see things in writing. I like even more to see things crossed off my list. (I cross them off - with marker or at least another color pen - checkmarks are not usually a sufficient form of completion.) Even the most mundane chores seem like a great feat when they are added to and then crossed off my list.
I do not, however, have a bucket list - a list of things that I would want to have accomplished before I die (or kick the bucket - hence the name). I guess the ordinary lists and day-to-day chores and errands and everyday life lists have grown like weeds over the things I used to dream of accomplishing. Now, don't get me wrong, weeds can be beautiful in their own space. But they certainly can choke out those flowers we've intended to grow.
I'm not sure what would even be on my bucket list anymore. I have a quote on my desk that reminds me: "There is no excuse not to dream." So maybe it's time I begin to dream again. This I may ponder and may yet begin another list.
