Some people go through life matter-of-factly accomplishing the things they know must be done each day. 

They do not need to write things down to remind themselves; they simply remember what’s to be done, and they do it. 

They are the ones who can pop into the grocery store to pick up half a dozen items on the way home from work—and actually leave the store carrying those six items, no more, no less. 

I admire those people, though I certainly do not understand them.
Other people go through life needing lists.

They make lists of things to do, things to buy, things to cook, things to attend, things to get rid of.  Those people find lists pleasing and helpful. You already know which category I claim. 

If I find myself at loose ends, with a scrap of paper within arm’s reach, I’ll make a list.

Yellow stick-ems, old VISA bill envelopes, margins of travel brochures, backs of one-sided advertising, edges of old church bulletins—anything a #2 pencil can make a mark on qualifies.

Unfortunately, some of the scraps I use for the making of lists are the bits that I inadvertently toss into the recycle, forgetting to check for penciled jottings on the backs or down the sides.

 Then, when it’s time to go to the store, I need to start over-- after I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time unsuccessfully looking for the original list. 

Finally, back to square one, I give up the search and peruse the refrigerator and cupboards for gaps, hoping I’ll find clues that enable me to scribble another list on the back of an old Hallmark card before I go out the door.

I do not use lists only for necessities.  Sometimes, list making provides therapy, for example, if I’m feeling sorry for myself and don’t wish to curl up on the couch with a book—my usual remedy if I am out of sorts.

Perhaps a list for my next trip to see granddaughter Annika: Things To Take To Idaho.  Or Things To Donate. Things To Sort. See? 

Anything can go onto a list and be quite at home there.  Sometimes my lists are on my computer. I cannot count on seeing those again, though I did find my favorite list this evening.

My list of Things To Be Grateful For stands at 171. It’s been a while since I started that list:  pine trees, train whistles, rain in the night, denim, orange cats, baskets, libraries, kindness, babies, rowboats, clotheslines, salt air, old friends, cathedrals, red geraniums…well, that’s enough. There are 155 others. 

Now that I’ve found the list, which is only a beginning, I can add to it. 

I’ve certainly enjoyed being reminded of those 171 things for which I am grateful. You might enjoy making such a list, too. Whether you need it or not.