A to-do list reminding me to âstart thinkingâ
It’s no secret that I’m a compulsive list maker with one to keep me on task for work at the newspaper and another one for home to-do things, just in case I’m not already exhausted enough and feel unworthy of wearing my “Look at Me, I’m Busy Badge.”
On the latter list, I came across one reminder that read nothing more than “Start thinking.”
Nothing after it. Specifics left to the imagination.
I squeezed my eyes shut really, really tight and thought, What was I supposed to start thinking about?
Now I’m assuming I got distracted when I was making that list (imagine that) and didn’t finish “the thought,” (hardy-har-har), but that made me laugh.
And it gave Better Half a chuckle, too, because he interpreted “Start thinking” as an overall directive, a kind of initiative that I needed to embrace, address, carry out and follow through with, that it was high time I begin doing just that — using the old brain.
Start thinking, Mrs. K. Try it. You’ll like it.
How about calling upon a few brain cells, for example, when you’re putting Cremora in your coffee and using the same spoon to do that and stir before you return said yucky-to-other-people spoon to the Cremora container.
Yeah, one of these days I might give thought to changing my bad coffee ways.
One of these days.
There are any number of things I was probably intending to remind myself to start thinking about when I wrote that on my to-do list.
It could have been “start thinking” about a Halloween outfit to look scarier than I already do.
I’ve got an idea, actually, but I’ll keep it under costume wraps for trunk-or-treat.
After all, I wouldn’t want anyone else to steal the idea that I’ve already stolen.
First-come, first-steal. That’s how the Oct. 31 outfit rules go, you know.
Or I could have been reminding myself to “start thinking about buying a couch.”
Now who would write such a thing in such a way as that on a to-do list?
Might I invite you to glance at my column picture and imagine that I have my right hand raised.
It’s no lie or stretch of the imagination that I want a new couch in what we call “the piano room” because, duhh, there’s a piano in it.
I think it would take my mind off the fact that we have a piano in there for life, and this room will never have any other name. Yes, the top of a piano is a fitting place to showcase family photos, and yes, it’s a dandy spot for Christmas decorations, too.
But you can’t get real original with the furniture arrangement in a room where there’s a piano.
And you can’t get rid of a piano. There’s no taker for a “free piano,” trust me.
I mention all the time to Better Half that I’m getting a new couch, which usually sounds more like a threat than a future consumer purchase or a living room upgrade.
His response is always “What’s wrong with the one you already sleep on all the time when you’re watching TV?”
Oh to live with a wise guy.
I advise Better Half sometimes to watch his words, to exercise spousal caution.
We’re moving into that scary season of Halloween.
Beware, my little pretty, or I’ll buy a matching chair, too.
And I’ll update my list … as soon as I start thinking.