I’m running out of items on my list for what to do with a year. Usually I’m a great list generator and I cross off items with great joy. On return from my 4-month drive, I drafted a new list for fixing, sorting, and disposing. I consolidated all my lists this morning and find the aggregate has grown smaller.
What happens when I exhaust my list? At work for e-mail, I would fiercely archive or delete new messages. A few times in my career, I reached that nirvana state of no messages in my inbox. However, life soon enough sent more messages.
With lists I tackle first the easy tasks then linger over the hard stuff. I dread cleaning my bike and fixing the window blinds, but I have time now for these seemingly Herculean efforts.
I’m likewise running out of subjects to write about. A poor sign of writer’s block is when an author discusses the writing process or the lack of it, similar to a movie director shooting a movie about movie directing.
I signed up for a San Francisco Public Library card, the first library card of my adult life. I may spend sunny afternoons in the periodicals section with the other elderly and homeless of San Francisco.
I estimate one more month of frantic idleness to exhaust both my task lists as well as my amusement. Afterwards, I will embark either on some grand project, like travel, or return to work.