A list

Frog and Toad is, in many ways, the sum of all wisdom. If you're not familiar with the stories, you should remedy that right away. Cliff Notes:  Frog and Toad are a large, upbeat, energetic, optimistic frog and a small, dumpy, fearful, neurotic toad who are best friends. In almost every Frog/Toad scenario, I am Toad.

In one of my favorite Frog and Toad stories, "A List", Toad decides to write everything he needs to do for the day on a list. Beginning with "wake up," and proceeding through "eat breakfast," "brush teeth," and "get dressed," he lists every single thing that he needs to do. Toad is absolutely delighted with the simple ingenuity of his plan, which will allow him to efficiently plan his day and accomplish everything he wants to accomplish.

If it didn't get crossed off the list, then it didn't happen.

"Oh, that is very nice," says Frog, in typical kind and indulgent fashion, when Toad enthusiastically shares his list with his friend. Frog, of course, lives in the moment, and it would never occur to him to waste time in the first place, so he would never have to worry about making a list to be sure that things get done. Frog just gets things done.

Frog invites Toad for a walk; Toad, consulting his list, notes with satisfaction that "take walk" is in fact one of his listed activities for the day, and the two happily set out for a walk through the woods.

It's a beautiful day in the woods, but it's windy, and the wind carries Toad's list away just as he's checking to see what happens after the walk. Toad, being Toad, panics. Frog, being Frog, reassures Toad and calmly and reasonably advises Toad to run and catch his list.

Wait for it.

Toad CAN'T run after his list of things to do, because running after his list of things to do isn't on his list of things to do. Frog runs after the list, but it's gone, lost forever.

******

I have learned a few things about myself, and one of them is that if I'm not held to account in one way or another, I'll postpone and procrastinate and forget about all of the hated minor chores that always seem to be hanging over my head. If I didn't make a list, no phone call would ever be returned, no email ever written, no bill ever paid. So I make lists; weekly lists and daily lists. But just like Toad, I don't just need the list to make sure that I'll do everything that needs doing. I need it to feel the sense of accomplishment that comes only with crossing an item off a to-do list.

Lists, in fact, have to be very specific. If I have two returns to make, then I list them separately. After all, I might only have enough time to get to one store on a particular day, and it would be just terrible to have completed a task, but then be unable to claim the reward of crossing it off the list, because it's only half-finished. Worse still is to tackle a particularly irksome chore, and then gleefully run for my list, only to find that I FORGOT TO WRITE THAT THING DOWN IN THE FIRST PLACE.

******

That was a break; I had to recover my composure.

At the end of "A List," Toad, despondent, sits for a few minutes doing nothing. He has lost his list; there's no hope of retrieving it, and so he can't do anything now, anything at all. Necessity is the mother of invention though, and Toad doesn't live in the woods for nothing. He finds a stick, and writes "go to sleep" on the ground, and goes peacefully to sleep. His day now completely crossed off, Toad is finally able to rest.

It's been a long, though productive work day. My weekly list grows longer by the day, but I was able to firmly cross out two things, and I feel hopeful about my crossing-off prospects for tomorrow, too. Good night.