We’re leaving for vacation tomorrow. This stresses me out.
I’ve got to pack four people for a week at the beach and make sure that I leave
no stones unturned. Instead of doing what I should be doing: packing, I am
making lists. My procrastination rituals usually involve lists. The planning
for the packing successfully postpones the actual packing which is, in fact, my
Packing, you see, is a pain in the ass. Planning for packing
is actually kind of fun. I sit back and visualize my days, lounging at the
beach. I visualize my kids in the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening,
before bedtime. What will they need? How much of what they will need do we
already have? What do I need to buy at the store? This daydreaming process
produces several lists. I have a list for my daughter, one for my son, one for
myself, and one for my husband. I have a grocery list as well and a list of
long car-ride essentials.
I arrange the lists neatly on the kitchen table, with a pen
readily available to check off each item as it is packed. Exhausted from the
list making process, I decide to take a break and catch some Z’s while the kids
rest. I wake up, go into the kitchen, look at my lists and panic sets in. I
better double check the accuracy of each list before I begin packing.