Why I’ll never be an adult
First of all, there are plenty of reasons why I’ll never be an adult. Like, I can’t put dirty clothes in the hamper even though it’s only three feet away; I think pickles make a perfectly acceptable dinner; I’m both a people pleaser and a procrastinator; and my wardrobe consists almost entirely of things from Old Navy. So yeah, there are plenty of compelling reasons. This post, however, will be about my fundamental inability to organize. I’m a right brainer with left brain fantasies. I thrive in visual disarray but crave organization. The warring Odd Couple compulsions means that I just suck at organization, which extends to my closet, my work day, and my life
Lists are the worst. I love lists. Love love love them. I
like need a visual reminder in front of my face, and like that I can cross things off as a go along. It’s visual and tangible–the right side of my brain is happy. But lists control me. It starts when I need to prioritize my to-do tasks. The experts tell you write down your three top priorities so you don’t become overwhelmed. Three? THREE!? That’s ridiculous; I have three must-dos before my day starts. And once I start writing lists, I write EVERYTHING down. Because what happens if I don’t write it down and *gasp* forget it? I treat lists like a data dump. For me, the purpose of a list is to expunge the information from my head and treat the list like an external drive. So then my lists start to include things like when to wake up, breathe, and check the mail. If I had to prioritize my top 3 things, it would be something like.
I know it’s getting bad when my lists get really meta. They’ll start to include things like “write to-do list,” and “check off to-do list.”
And then there are lists for my lists. My list will start getting pretty long (today’s has about 40 things on it), and once they become cumbersome, I’ll divide them into sub-lists. I’ll have a work list, a personal list, a horse lists, and exercise list, etc. etc.
But shit, what happens if I’m driving and I think of something I need to put on one of my lists!? And what happens when that task snowballs into me thinking of eight other things I need to write down? Ahhhhhhhh! So I have a car list of tasks to transfer onto my other lists.
It’s paralyzing. And ineffective.
I clearly need a life consultant and to bury myself in the self-help section of a bookstore.