I happen to love lists. I make them almost every day, just to have a few planned events. Not so many as to overwhelm me, and not so few as to render me comatose; not so difficult that I become discouraged, just enough to keep me moving through the day. I crave that sense of accomplishment that crossing an item off my list gives me.
But I don’t have a bucket list.
People tell me about their bucket lists. There was a movie about two old men and their bucket lists. It’s all the rage. Why don’t I have one?
Maybe because I have no idea what I want to accomplish, see, and do before I kick that proverbial bucket. What would be on my end-of-life list, I wonder?
This is harder than I expected…
Oh, I know.
- Do a 5000 piece jigsaw puzzle. (That would entail having a table big enough to do such a huge puzzle. And a table that size would necessitate a room big enough to accommodate it, and ergo a house of enormous dimensions….
- Find a new way of cooking chicken. (1001 ways is just not enough.)
- Conquer all the worlds of Bubble Totem. (Or Candy Crush, or Bubble Shoot, or the game du jour on my phone.)
- Make a less boring bucket list. (Duh)
Yes. Well, it looks like I should stick to my usual lists: grocery, chores, bills-to-pay, and the dog’s grooming schedule.
Who needs a bucket list anyway?