The list is constantly nagging me to work on it. I know it is arguably the most important thing on my to-do list right now. But I keep pushing work on the list off, instead preferring to catch up on emails and work, replace things (even though I also hate shopping), fantasize about what sort of wreckage I might find if/when I get access to it.
The list is currently about 10 pages, handwritten, in various neatnesses and pen colors. And while it is long, it will get significantly longer. I haven't even really touched on items in my bedroom or kitchen yet. I also haven't gone back through and revisited the other rooms in my mind yet. I still need to go through my old credit card and bank statements to get more backup evidence. I need to look back through my Amazon and REI histories.
The list makes me cry. I can barely stand to look at it without feeling the tears starting to swell up in my eyes.
The list is ruthless, cold, and without mercy. I know that everything on the list will at some point be evaluated, priced, judged. No matter how much those old plastic barrettes with the ducks on them from my childhood meant to me, they are still just cheap plastic barrettes from the 80's.
I am working on the list. I WILL own the list. But for now, the list owns me.
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