Lists and Lists and It

I went to the launch of the Harlot’s new book on Wednesday and had a grand time. Who knew a group of knitters could be that much fun? Well, I did, actually, but for the non-knitters among you, trust me: if you want to hang with people who make you laugh like an idiot, go find yourself some knitters. Naturally, I wasn’t with it enough to get a picture of The Star of the Evening (that’d not be you, Stephanie, that’d be the Pierce Brosnan wrap), but I did get one of Steph’s lovely daughters Sam, Amanda and Megan:

Steph read “It” from her book, a damn funny story of a woman who slowly loses her grip on reality in the face of a mountain of Christmas knitting, It being a state of utter deranged denial. Completely fictional, of course. (oh, I could tell you stories…)

It reminded me of my own current predicament. It’s not that I’ve lost my mind – yet. It’s more that I feel things slipping a smidge. I’d been a hermit for a while and when I came back out of the cave, rather a lot of things had piled up. I sat and whimpered for a while and then I decided to make some lists. Lists make me feel better. Lists make me feel in control, even when it looks like an F3 tornado just hit my life. It’s all about the illusion of togetherness – if you can fake that, sometimes, the piles get so stunned, they’ll organize themselves a little before the surprise wears off

Once the Tinks had arrived safely (they're doing fine, by the way), I started looking at the lists. Then I made some more lists of which lists to attack first. And then I started in on them this week, which developed into a full-time job of catching up on my life. I was incredibly productive for three days before I realized that “dealing with my life” was generating more work. You deal with your correspondence, sit back and enjoy having no more flagged items in your inbox and then…. People write you back. You finally make that phone call that’s been on your list every day for 16 days and then… it generates two more calls to address the issues that were the reason you waited for 16 days in the first place.
Etc., etc. ad nauseam. By the time I had plowed through an alarming amount of items and the even more alarming pile that evolved out of the first pile, I was capable merely of sitting still, staring at the wall and drooling. While I realized in my stupor that I’d still not gotten to the Christmas part of the list collection. And it's how many days away?

I’d just like a good 6 hours more in the day and I suspect I’m not the only one. Maybe if we all petitioned the Powers That Be?

Sometimes, I think being a hermit – a real one – would be easier. Then all I’d have to do was fetch water, chop up trees for the fire and chase woodland creatures out of my lettuce patch.

In the face of all of this, I’m taking today off. Does that mean I’m in the throes of It?