The List Carousel

Dare I broadcast out to the internet that Clay is out of town?

I might as well.  The neighbors certainly know he’s gone.  They know it not just because his car is not in the driveway, but because the lights are on way past midnight.  I am simply unable to make myself go to bed when I should.  Instead, I sit up wasting time in a million ways.  One common way being to wander around the house picking through the clutter and pondering its many mysteries:

  • Why are there dice in the door of my refrigerator, and who put them there?
  • Why does Quinn’s ‘fridge phonics’ toy sometimes moo at me for no apparent reason when I walk by?
  • What happens to the mates of all the Littles’ socks?
  • Where are the battery compartment covers for the remote controls?
  • What did Quinn flush down the toilet THIS time?

Or sometimes I find myself venturing into larger territory, contemplating some of the more under-rated problems of modern life.  For example, I think about the proliferation of light bulb types– a serious problem for those of us who are forced to select light bulbs without the benefit of undivided concentration in the grocery store.  Is it halogen or xenon or regular old incandescent?  And does it screw in, pop in, or plug in with those little prongs? Don’t even get me started about the need to go to a specialty store just to keep the lights burning over the kitchen sink!

Then, as I begin to wind down and feel a little guilty for all the wasted time, I start a new mental list.  If I were truthful with myself, I would label it, “Things I will delude myself into believing I might accomplish before Clay comes home from his current trip.”  On this doomed list?

  • Scrape and regrout the bathtub tile surround.
  • Finish off the roman shades I started making for the bay window in the living room (2 years ago).
  • Paint behind all the books and clutter on the open shelves in the kitchen (whose idea was that anyway?  Ummm…).
  • Paint that canvas I bought for his office.

Usually I’m at the head-swallowing yawn stage by the time I get through the ‘should-do’ list.  In fact, that’s where I am now.  It’s better than counting sheep.  I drift off peacefully, dreaming of, not the drink itself, but the SMELL of rich, dark coffee.  I can hardly wait for morning…

Now, tell me I’m not really that eccentric… you all have these idle wonderings and over-inflated plans, too.  Right?  Right???

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