Unlisted Life

Monday. A list of things to do. Have to do. A list that goes as far back as childhood chores. Chores. Requirements. A list that tethers days and endless days all the way to judgment day when we will receive all the lists we've made in life. A mountain of post its, a sky scraper of planners, even all the little gum wrappers where we wrote the weekend's list of things to do will be returned to us. For the Palm users, they will receive a super DSL download of every things to do lists they've done; through their belly buttons,the human USB port. And when all of these lists are handed to each and everyone of us, we will finally understand the original meaning of the word COMPENDIUM. Not just a short list of things, but the weight of all things done in a lifetime of must do and have to do. Where are the lists of joys and things to enjoy? Where are the lists for things we need not do? Lists and labor are twins. When I was a freelance "everything" there were days when I had nothing to do but be. It was a life of short-life decisions. It was like watching the decay of atoms. Where should I eat today? Will I go to the mall or watch TV the whole day? It was an unlisted life with momentary tasks to do. Panic came once in a while, list-withdrawal symptoms I called them. But it was bliss. I need to get off the listed life again. OK, I will make a list of things to do to get to a point where I don't need to make a daily list of things to do. Sigh. Monday is the devil's holiday for sure.