Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check Check To Do Lists

I end every night taking inventory on the checklist of items needing to be completed and take note of what I accomplished and what still needs to be done. I then go to bed thinking of the to-do list so I can process (I hope, in theory) some of the mental work that needs to occur while I'm sleeping. Unconscious dream processing, I call it.

I wake up very early, but my brain doesn't get to work for at least an hour (except for when the dreams prompt me with ways to get through my checklist faster). The noggin I've been allowed to use in this lifetime needs coffee and online newspapers for 60-minutes before I can even think about what needs to be prioritized for the checklist each the day.

Last night, I went to bed frustrated because as I marked items off my list, the emails kept coming in adding more and more to. My cell phone sounded like a desperate cicada of wants, needs, questions, invites, and demands.

The Man has a spoon. It's pouring outside. Inside, there's an empty, Olympic pool. Man is given challenge, "Fill the pool with the rain water. Use the spoon. Go."

And I'm going. I'm going. Really I am going.

Of course, there are REALLY important items on the checklist that don't get accomplished and they are why I hibernate in ME, MYSELF, and I alone time most weekends.

Yet, I can't complain. I love that I keep this online presence of my whacky, daily thinking. At least I know one item on my check list matters to me.

Check.