I don’t remember when I first got started on this particular affliction. Why do I call it that?  It doesn’t really harm anyone, nor me, for that matter; writing a list.

I like my lists.  I keep them close; they are my comforters.  They are cuddly.  I could cwtch my lists. But this action can become a bit obsessive, I must admit.  The making of lists and lists of lists and even lists of lists of lists.

Somehow it is in the act of writing down, committing things to paper, that plants those things in the mind and simultaneously frees up space for other things.  Or, so I convince myself.

Frees up space for other things?  What are those other things, that it frees up the space for?  Do I really engage in any activity that fills up those spaces?  I do.  I really do.  Honest, I do.

I fill up those spaces with yet more lists.  And, you may well ask, what do those lists contain?

Well, dear reader, there’s the lists of things to buy at the shops.  Then there can sometimes be additional lists, supplementary lists, extracted from those lists; categorised by name of shop where said goods can be purchased.  And, any items remaining after purchasing, that is, those you forgot, despite your list, start the next ‘generic’ list for the next time one, or both of us, go shopping.  Crazy, eh?

Then there are the sequentially ordered, and sometimes numbered, lists of which dishes to prepare, in what order, when cooking for guests.

Then there are the insane number of lists I construct before going away on a long journey.  Lists that grow exponentially as time diminishes.

(1)    Household chores: ranging from - defrost the fridge; move pots; check watering system; use up x, y and z

(2)    Journey:  get out/open up -  camping boxes; pack sheets, pillows, towels, sleeping bags; find guidebooks, maps; print this; copy that

(3)    Buy: dry goods etc etc

(4)    Pack: containers; bottles; clothes (light weight, swimming, walking, medium weight, cold, rain, ponchos, jacket, boots)

I could go on, but maybe that is enough to give you the flavour.  No wonder my memory’s shot to pieces.  I don’t allow it any place to roam freely for fear it either won’t appear or it will get out of control.

And, dear reader, even when I’m on that long journey I use a little notebook to…….. you’ve guessed it……….  to construct lists: lists of places to visit; lists of things to buy and, I have to admit, that shopping list sometimes includes a little notebook for making lists in.

Obsessed:          definitely

Compulsive:       probably

Disorder:              ?????

I’ll leave you, my readers, to decide on the last item in that particular list.