Arrested in aisle eight 29 Oct 2012
I like lists. They keep my life manageable.
On Monday I wrote a list of the lists I’d need to write for the week.
The top item on this meta-list – perhaps most important to everyone – was 'Write shopping list'.
The last item on this list – likely only important to me – was ‘Staple final lists together’. I’m big on lists, but I’m also big on losing them.
The best made plans
It all came undone so suddenly. I wrote the shopping list, but I forgot to cross it off the meta-list. And when I misplaced the shopping list a couple days later, my meta-list confused me and I couldn’t be sure I’d actually written this week’s shopping list at all.
It was down to a rewrite, hoping I’d not forget anything. I didn’t trust my memory, so I wrote the new list on a poster-size sheet of A2 paper.
Okay, I attracted more than a couple stares at the supermarket that evening. Worse was that I had all my lists for the week on A2 sheets, all stapled together.
It wasn’t so bad until I realised that I needed to check my ‘Recipes for the week’ list to be sure I had what I needed. I pulled out the staple and neatly laid all eight A2 sheets in the aisle.
No one could get past. Security came over and took my lists. I grabbed for them but knocked over the front row of tomato sauce bottles.
Let's just say that things got ugly after that. And that, unfortunately, was when I was escorted to the station.
There is no lesson. There is no moral. Maybe there’s just too much hype around lists.
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