She is also one of those people at whom I marvel who prepare and follow thorough lists for projects. I noticed her detailed list of Thanksgiving dinner preparations on the counter this morning, and I snapped a photograph for posterity. And yes: she continued to check off items as they reached the desired phase of completeness.
I have never been able to cultivate the habit of list-making, though I am awed by people like my wife who regularly use this intelligent activity. Too much of my life has been spent regretting items I forgot to purchase at the store or errands I failed to remember to carry out. List-making is an excellent tool to prevent befuddled people like me from screwing up, yet we just cannot seem to get it together long enough to actually compile such lists.
In years past I possessed the mental clarity to be able to keep everything straight in my head, but I no longer can manage even an average day without forgetting some tasks. Perhaps instead of writing about list-making I ought to force myself to actually create lists. I will start as soon as I find my pen, which fell on the kitchen floor tiles and rolled under the refrigerator, where I noticed that there was a lot of dust and crud, so it will have to wait until I scrub this area down, plus the inside of the microwave, which is covered with speckled pasta sauce from my son when he reheated a leftover arrabbiata dish the other day.
What did I say I was going to do again?