lists, lists, lists

I am a compulsive list-maker. Have been as long as I can remember. And because of that tendency, I've recently (since about 2008, near the end) started organizing my life with lots of lists. What I have to do this week. What I have to do today, tonight, right now. What I have done. Books I've read. Movies I've seen. How much I worked each day. What I've spent and how much money I have. What I eat each day. How much exercize I do, and now much weight I've lost and what my goals are for both. All my appointments, my addresses, my penpals. All this week's ideas and everything I should look up. On and on an on.

And I love it.

There's a book I saw at the bookstore about making lists, and I lust after it like it's pornogrpahy or something.

And you know what? It's working. I don't always list everything every day. Sometimes I go entire weeks without anything of the sort. But mostly I print up all the sheets I've downloaded and made for myself every Sunday or Monday, and I use my lists, and I miss very few deadlines now unless something unforseeable comes up. I almost never go under in my bank account. I get a dozen articles written each week, usually. Sometimes I even have time to goof off or go looking for more work or whatever. And it's freeing. My lists let me not have to worry about it all, so my brain can be occupied with getting stuff done. All the organizing websites said that's what it would do, but I didn't really believe them until now. But it's true.

So viva la lists.