Every day of my life, I write down a list of tasks that need to be completed.
Most days, almost nothing gets done off that list of tasks, primarily, I’ve noticed, because there are always new tasks that get added to that list that seem to take priority.
One of the tasks on my list, for example, is: Jacket
I bought my husband this jacket for Christmas. He had a barn jacket for years and years and it was accidentally thrown out by one of my nephews (which just really hammered home my point to him which is: PLASTIC GARBAGE BAGS ARE NOT LUGGAGE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD) and he has whined about his inability to find one since that time.
Well, I found one at L.L. Bean, which was perfect. It was perfect! I purchased it for Christmas and displayed it under the tree in the cool L.L. Bean box with the red bow.
Except when he put it on and determined it didn’t “hang right”.
He is such a complete and total girl.
Anyway, I’ve been meaning to send the jacket back since…well, the day after Christmas. At this point, I don’t know that they will take it back, honestly, even though it hasn’t been worn. Not that I blame them.
But I have to find SOMETHING to do with that jacket. Preferably something not in my own personal home so I won't have to hear my husband say every single day of my life, "When are you going to send that jacket back?"
It is just not a priority to me. I look at it every day and I move it to the next day every day and I just cannot bring myself to make any kind of effort towards finding out what I should actually DO with that stupid jacket.
Another entry on my list: File.
I hate to file. Oh my sweet Baby Jesus in a manager with cattle lowing. I HATE TO FILE.
Looking at my home this would be surprising, I suppose, because in my living room next to the ginormous, ugly desk that my husband loves and adores, is a file cabinet. Inside that file cabinet are neatly labeled folders: 2001 Taxes, Car Insurance, Home Insurance, Boy Child, Girl Child, Sallie Mae.
Jason and I each have a file. Mine contains my birth certificate and social security card. Jason’s contains every single piece of paper he’s every laid his hands on, ever, because he’s the world’s biggest packrat and is loathe to throw out anything. Ever.
At work my to-be-filed pile is the size of my considerable derriere and growing. Every day I look at it, somewhat dejectedly, and wish it would go to hell and die. It never does. Every now and then I’ll make a half-hearted attempt at filing. Like yesterday, for example, I put away exactly three pieces paper. The remaining eight-thousand? I just couldn’t muster it up within myself. Every now and then (read: almost never) I get on a big kick and just file the crap out of everything. That has not happened lately.
So many other things on my to-do list are just never going to get done. Clear off desk? Yeah. Likely! Clean out binder. Um, BAHAHAHAHAAHA! That would require me dealing with the massive amount of random paperwork I currently have stuffed in my binder and that’s just not going to happen. Required Reading? Lord. Have. Mercy. I’ve been working on this one, and no, I’m not kidding, since April of LAST YEAR. Still not done! I’m awesome!
Sometimes I put things that are required by law for me to do on my to-do list, just so I can feel good.
Put seatbelts on children. CHECK!
Feed children. CHECK!
Sign timesheet so your sorry butt gets paid. CHECK-A-RONI!
Mess around on the internet with my blog way to much. CHECK-A-LECK-A-DING-DONG!
I just didn’t turn out. I’m sad to say. I just did not turn out.
*This does not refer to the restaurant, Ruby Tuesday, but in fact to the fantastical Rolling Stones song. The lyrics, in part, read:
There's no time to lose,
I heard her say,
Catch your dreams,
before they slip away
Dying all the time
Lose your dreams
And you will lose your mind.
Aint life unkind?
Goodbye, ruby tuesday
Who could hang a name on you?
When you change with every new day
Still Im gonna miss you...
Which, I know. Way profound for a Thursday morning. But still. Good song. Good times.