I have a problem with to-do lists. For some reason, every time I make a to-do list, I end up doing everything I could possibly think of to do that isn’t on the list instead of what I intended to do.
Does anyone else have this problem?
I put cleaning out my closet – as part of The Purge – on the list and going through dresser and desk drawers, but instead I have been playing my guitar and thinking of ways to make mason jars into something pretty. (by the way, if you want to do that – here’s a great link to TINTING them pretty colors! link) I put all the mason jars in the dishwasher and checked the mail and read through my community’s magazine.
And now I’m blogging and waiting for water to boil. I can tell you that it wasn’t on my list. I have emails to write, people to connect with before I leave for college (the countdown is at 16 days), and things to get rid of.
I think I have myself figured out here. Because I’ve put these priorities on a to-do list, I assume it’ll get done. And these other things aren’t on the to-do list, so maybe I’m afraid that I won’t do them. Or maybe I have a problem with following directions from myself.
I’ve done everything from working out (which actually was on the list) to checking up on Ryan Lochte on Twitter (which wasn’t on the list, but he’s having a great day with his family in case you were wondering), but I can’t bring myself to walk into my room and start the horrible process of cleaning out my closet.
I’m going to relate this to the Olympics here.
Pretend I’m like these guys.
The Purge is like an Olympic event. I’m a swimmer, wading through junk and treasures, having to discern what to keep and what to throw and what to put in a box in the garage and what to take with me. Sometimes I have a race where I am a little sluggish and I look at the other swimmers and the clock and stop to throw some diving rings to the bottom of the pool a retrieve them. And then that annoying blonde reporter from NBC (anyone else think she needs to find a new line of work instead of interrogating people about how the recent tragedy in their family has affected their race or why they didn’t swim super fast? I’d like to slap her sometimes. I’m not sure if Jesus would do that, but I know I’d like to.) would ask me why I was so unfocused.
Then I’d remember the goal and that I’d like a medal for this. In this metaphor, the medal is the satisfaction and joy coming from a clean room and a job well done and a bunch of bags of stuff that will be leaving.
It’s all about refocusing, and this macaroni and cheese I have to my left will be my ticket to productivity. I’ll go for the gold.