If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then quit. There's no point in being a d**n fool about it. W.C. Fields

Challenge Update: And so, with the advice of eloquent Mr. Fields at my back, I call an official end to the experimental month of Life Without a To Do List. I wouldn't call it a failure: I didn't write a to do list for the last 26 days, so I have adhered to the challenge. I wouldn't call it a success: I can't see any significant life improvement. A bit more perspective, perhaps, and understanding of how a to do list can either be useful or a method of extending my control-freakish ways. Perhaps that does make it a success.

March was a strange month, anyway. It was probably the best possible month to forego my usual list addiction; from remodeling projects to plumbing problems to sickness to out-of-town guests to flooding, March has been full of things keeping me from routine. If I had been making to do lists this month, they probably would have been untouched at the end of the day, which would have made me feel even more out of control.

That is what I have learned from this challenge: lists make me feel like I'm in control. Especially when I can accomplish what is on the list. But even when I don't get it all done, it gives me a sense that at least I know what isn't done. I am aware of what waits for me, what is lacking, what must be tackled. Without that list, I feel like I am floating. I may be missing something important. I may have forgotten to pay a bill. I don't know.

Are lists good or bad, then? Both. A list can become a lifeline, when what I really need is an afternoon off or a date with my husband or a chat with my best friend. A list can make me dependent on accomplishing and leave me feeling that without a record of my accomplishments (however insignificant they are), I am unimportant, unrecorded, lost, meaningless.

A list can keep me on track, though, when distractions are everywhere. A list can point me back to my priorities and help me focus on the truly important even when those urgent things are screaming at me. A list can help me reach my goals. It lets me see progress. It also lets me see when I am trying to do too much, if I am willing to look.

After (almost) a month without a list, I am willing to look. I am not willing to write a 20-point list and feel guilty at the end of the day when I haven't accomplished it all. I am not willing to substitute list-making and checking off items for time and conversation and rest. I do want to stay on track, and see progress, and reach goals. So I am stepping back into a life with a to do list, but this time it is a tool and not an end in itself.

Better Life Tip: Make a careful list of all things done to you that you abhorred. Don't do them to others, ever.
...Make another list of things done for you that you loved. Do them for others, always. Dee Hock

04 February - Home and the Lights Are Dimming
I am so awake this morning! Progress. I got right up and out of bed today. No snooze for me, because I left my phone - which is my alarm - on the kitchen table. A good move, and one that helped me wake right up. Other things that helped: I went to bed at 9:00 last night. I am home and slept in my own bed beside my husband. I am at home and as soon as I wake up I immediately start seeing things that I need to do, especially when I've been away from my routine for a while.

The real help in waking up today came from the pile of mail beside my phone. There on the top was the electric bill, the one I forgot to pay! A little jolt like that (no pun intended) will help you wake up. At least they didn't turn off the electricity on Joe while I was gone. "Why is everything getting so dark all of a sudden...?"
I have so many projects for February. Too many. I know it is too many, but I still want to get them all done. One thing on the list is to hang curtains or pictures, something I should definitely do since we've lived here now for two years and I have put up curtains in only two rooms and hung a total of two pictures on the walls. I guess that's one per year: rather a slow rate of progress. I know Joe would definitely appreciate a curtain over the window above the shower. (It's really not a priority for me; I'm only 5'4". Heh heh.)
I have this tendency to wait on things (procrastination) until I figure out exactly how to do them right (perfectionism). Procrastination + Perfectionism = Nothing Gets Done. I'm working on it. Imperfect progress realized is better than perfection imagined. I just have trouble remembering that sometimes.
Two principles for my life and home while I work on overcoming my P+P issues: 1) NO COMPARING. Comparison is never helpful; it just makes me think I can never achieve what I'm comparing myself or my home or my life to. I don't see the imperfections of what or whom I am comparing myself with, so it reinforces that perfectionism tendency. Bad, bad, bad. 2) JUST DO IT. Sometimes we really do learn from advertising. Nike is right. (So is Yoda.)
And now I must go do something like breakfast.

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but desire fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

Lately our major project has been the basement: a huge, unfinished area full of all the stuff we didn't know what to do with. There's a floor-to-ceiling stack of servers and processors, a row of old computer monitors, multiple boxes of smaller computer parts, and stacks of computer books. That's just my husband's stuff. Then there's mine: two sets of dishes that I have no room for in my kitchen, fondue sets, vases, material scraps, old files and notebooks and papers, boxed-up baby clothes from 0-3 months to 3 years, my "before the first pregnancy" clothes, maternity clothes, and "in between the first and second pregnancy" clothes, and stacks of other, non-computer books. Then there is all the stuff we have accumulated for and from ongoing projects, such as countertop remnants, scrap lumber, unused 2x4s, dismantled shelving, a roll of insulation, a half-used bucket of drywall plaster, and many small drywall pieces.

I never pondered the idea of inanimate objects procreating until we had this basement. It - and all the stuff in it - has a life of its own. We've given away clothes and books, had a garage sale and donated the leftovers, sold furniture and household stuff online, and hauled away many loads of trash. Still the stuff just fills the space. Everytime I walked down the stairs to do laundry I just tried to overlook it. It has been so overwhelming to think about clearing out this space into something usable... until now.

I had to get frustrated enough with the mess and the waste before I was willing to take on the scary beast of a basement. It seemed such an enormous project that I felt like I needed to schedule hours and hours to it, and it is hard to find lots of excess hours just sitting around. Finally, driven by frustration to action of any kind, I just started tackling one small pile at a time. Joe set up some cabinets on one end of the largest room, and one by one I hauled out boxes, sorted through them, took out the nasty, worthless stuff, organized and arranged the good stuff, and put it all away in a cabinet or a nicely labeled box. Slowly I cleared out the storage space off the bedroom and returned my sorted and labeled boxes to it. Slowly I worked my way through the piles of stuff in the bedroom itself until I could see almost the entire floor again. Everyday a little more order appeared, a little more space, a little more progress.

Two days ago, with the help of a friend, I attacked the last of the bedroom to get it completely emptied and ready for use as an actual bedroom. It took us twenty minutes to clear out the rest of the clutter, remove the lumber remnants, hang a curtain over the storage area entrance, wipe down the walls, hang a curtain over the window, and sweep the floor. Twenty minutes!

Yesterday Joe was off work all day so we decided to set up the bed in the newly emptied bedroom. It morphed into an afternoon-long workaholic's dream, but after five hours of hard work we had the bedroom ready for a guest, moved Joe's workspace over close to mine so we have a dual office, and transformed our previously cluttered and junked office/extra room into a clean and cozy library/lounge. One afternoon!

I started seriously working on the basement, one box at a time, only about three weeks ago. There's still a lot to do. The floors are rough, unfinished concrete. The walls need to be sanded and painted. The light fixtures are an eyesore. The piles of lumber and building materials are still there. Our half-installed bathroom is still half-installed as we get the necessary time and money (and a plumber!) to finish installing it. But progress is beautiful and inspires more progress. Overcoming a box or two that first day led to overcoming two or three boxes the next day, and from there we have made these giant leaps into two habitable rooms and a working office. No, not perfect, but better. Much better.

"Desire fulfilled is a tree of life." A tree bears fruit; it produces something beautiful and useful. Seeing our desires fulfilled, even in small pieces, is the push, the fertilization and water and nutrients and sunshine necessary to get that tree bearing good fruit. The more we let projects and goals sit around, untouched and overwhelming, the sicker and sicker our hearts become over them.

Make a move toward a big goal or project, just one small move. If you want to organize that dreaded clutter beast in your home, just get one empty box - a small one, maybe - and fill it up and throw it out. If you want to schedule your days and use your time better, get a notebook and start making a list of things to do and appointments to keep. If you want to be a better friend, pick up the phone and call, even if you only leave a message. Start. It can be a small start, it can seem insignificant, but the energy it provides from even the small amount of progress you see will push you on toward the next step and more progress. The wonderful thing about making progress is that it is cumulative: each day's progress builds on the progress of the day before, and you get to look back at that valley of hope deferred from a higher and higher distance.