A Mighty List

I used to love making lists. Unfortunately, once the list is made my brain seems to think that that's enough effort and tells my body to go watch television. Don Aslett maintains that a list is an invaluable part of actually getting stuff done and he himself carries around a megalist of projects in no particular order of importance and his brain stays firmly on track, working on projects as time and circumstances allow. The FlyLady maintains that megalists are absolutely doomed from the outset because there are a lot of folks like me out there whose brains like the act of listmaking but once made, the list assumes a portent not unlike contemplating the construction of a pyramid and is hastily abandoned in favor of doing absolutely nothing. Most of what I have to do during the course of a day is directly related to whatever my two-year-old daughter MaryJane needs or wants or doesn't want in many cases. The other day I had only my son in the house and he's five and can do things like go to the bathroom all by himself and amuse himself and I found that I got about three times the work done than I usually do, so I realize that MaryJane's current need levels are certainly affecting my production levels. I think that a successful list for me would have to take into account Scheduled Crap, like what time Little Nigel is off to school and what time he gets home. But it would also have to accomodate Unscheduled Crap, like Cleaning Up Ten Thousand Shreds Of Paper Towel That The Cats Created During The Night. Unscheduled Crap always has to be taken care of immediately before it drifts all over the house or starts to smell or dehydrate so the Scheduled Crap gets put off or rushed through and the results of dealing with any and all Crap are typically D+ work. By the time 8:00pm comes and all the tiny screamers have passed out, I am left looking at the Shreds I Missed, Dishes That Got Passed Over In Favor Of Shred Gathering and Things That Never Got Put Away That Could Get Shredded During The Night and all that, plus the ever-present-and-apparently-unshiftable Eau De Colon that permeates the place due to MaryJane's potty-training activities, sends me straight to the television. I am well aware that most of these irritating realities are as malleable as MaryJane's Play-Doh and could be changed, but it feels like I'm trapped in a Rubik's Cube of diapers, Convenient Shreddables like Little Nigel's school papers or rolls of toilet paper from the giant package that my husband so thoughtfully purchased and lugged home but won't fit into any cat-proof cupboard, Last Week's Laundry, This Week's Laundry and Next Week's Laundry, which will doubtless contain a number of Emergency Pee-Sopping Towels and other Things That Smell Like Pee thanks to both of my children, one of whom is learning to use the potty and the other of whom has less-than-perfect aim and is a heavy sleeper. I managed to locate and deal with All Visible Shreddable Objects the other day when MaryJane was off with Grandma and I truly thought that I would wake up to No Shreds, but somehow the cats managed to open a cupboard door and knock my son's little package of Starbusts onto the floor where they proceeded to Shred the package and chew all the paper-covered Starbursts into Little Gummy Wads so I woke up to Shreds, Little Gummy Wads and Tear-Stained Son, who encountered the Little Gummy Remains of his special candy before I did. Between Shreds, Wads and Tears, Little Nigel was almost late for school, went there sans underwear and I forgot to put a spoon in with his lunch yogurt. Our television service went out last week due to a broken satellite reciever box and I managed to get that completely fixed before CSI Vegas premiered last Thursday, mostly because it was a straightforward problem with almost no Unscheduled Crap aspects, but I was certainly motivated by my Inner Agenda which regards Loss Of CSI Vegas as a problem of greater importance than Things That Smell Like Pee. Besides, I only have one satellite reciever box and seven hundred Things That Smell Like Pee and they aren't the same seven hundred Things as they were yesterday. Both Don Aslett and The FlyLady would tell me to Schedule Time For Things That Smell Like Pee and of course they are right, but the Things range from the Logical, such as the bathroom floor around the toilet which is hosed down daily, to the Absurd And Hard To Find like the pants that Little Nigel accidentally wet while struggling to remove them first thing in the morning and then stuffed them into a drawer in his room out of sheer embarassment. It took me three hours to locate that particular Thing That Smells Like Pee and I have taken to burning a lot of incense and watching television programs featuring people who look as though they have never smelled pee in their lives.