I write lists. And then I lose them. I never mean to lose the lists I write, they just seem to grow legs and walk away. I should stop putting legs on the list...
But again, I write lists. What should I do? What needs to be done? What do I want to do? And when? Somedays, those especially lazy days, I find myself writing lists about things I have already done as if they still needed doing. At least those lists get checked off.
I write lists. When I panic, when I'm bored, when I need a moment to clear my mind. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, 8:00, 12:00, 3:00, set times and schedules like intangible puzzle pieces that all fit together when they hit the page.
But I don't ever write lists about girls. Some things are too complicated to organize. But they do have one thing in common. I can never find them when I want them.
(though I can't imagine girls being tucked into seat cushions or stuffed into the far reaches of my pockets. I will make note of it to look there)