Much To Do About Nothing

Don't worry...the world won't end today.
I've put it on my 'To Do' list for tomorrow.
― Anthony T. Hincks

Every day, I begin my workday by checking my emails.  And, every workday, after I have checked them, I ignore them until I have checked my Facebook page, my private emails, how many likes I received on previous blogposts, read my horoscope, messaged my kids, chatted to everyone in the office, and drank a couple of pots of coffee. (In fact, I have a whole list of things to do at work before I actually do any work.)
The other day, having just returned from the long weekend of Rosh HaShana, and even though there were five days worth of emails, there was nothing pressing, so after I checked everything I needed to check and drank three pots of coffee, I began writing out my TO-DO list for the coming days.

This is where it all falls apart.

When there is a great deal of work to do around the house, as there is during the 'Chagim' (the Jewish holidays that fall, one after another, during the early autumn) the only way I can cope is by writing out lists. There is nothing more satisfying than crossing things off the daily to-do lists.
Therefore, I write separate lists for everything: things to clean (divided into rooms); food to buy (by groupings - fruits, vegetables, dry goods, spices, drinks, meat, cocktails), tasks to complete (listed in order of dislike - ironing is always last).

But despite all these lists, somehow, I always forget something.

I go to the supermarket with a list as long as a Stephen King novel (but scarier), and conscientiously tick things off the list as I take items off the shelves. But when I get home, I find I forgot to list mayonnaise. Or paprika. Or a can of mini corn. Or fabric softener. (Which would make 3,467 days in a row that I forgot to buy fabric softener.)
I send a kid to the local corner store, where prices are, on average, 6.8 times higher than the supermarket I just left, to buy the missing item.
The kid asks "What else do you need?" I answer, "Just steak spice, I have everything else I need." The kid comes back with the steak spice just as the next kid is leaving to go buy the vanilla pudding I need to put in the gluten-free cookies that I put on my What to Bake list, but forgot to put on the Gluten-Free Ingredients I Need to Buy' list.
By coincidence, just as the second kid has left,  the out-of-town kid  phones to ask what she should bring. I tell her "oh I have everything I need!! But if you happen to come across, in your travels, some fresh oregano, I would be grateful."

I begin a new list: Things I've Forgotten To Buy. This list can sometimes get quite lengthy, but usually, I forget exactly what it is I've forgotten.

In the midst of all the shopping and meal planning, the house has to be cleaned. This area of housework does not faze me. I write out - usually on the backs of printed recipes of dishes I will never make (what was I thinking??? Also, I forgot to buy pesto) - lengthy, detailed lists of tasks to be done. Then I leave the lists in public places around the house where other people will find them.

Back in the kitchen, after all the ingredients have been sorted, next comes the task of baking/cooking. I first have to put things in order; which pots are needed for what dish, which baking pans I will need, in what order to cook each dish. I glance through my lists: What to Bake, Which Chicken/Schnitzel/Meat is the Easiest to Make, Vegetables Kids Like and Vegetables Kids Don't Like (the second part of that list took me quite a chunk of my workday to complete), Desserts (a surprisingly short list consisting of ice cream [bought - I must remember to put that on the Things I've Forgotten To Buy list] and canned fruit salad [which I, in fact, remembered ticking off my list with great satisfaction]).
But all my plans come to a screeching halt as I left my What Pots and Pans I Have list at work.
Which is good. Because I forgot to buy balsamic vinegar.

And I've run out of kids.