Here’s a list from 1973. My mom would have been 33. I especially like my dad’s addition near the bottom. And the back is priceless ((to save space I only scanned the text and drawing)). I think Mom was simply creative and she really just wanted to draw. Draw and make lists — even for other people. I was not given a list, I guess. I wonder what my jobs were.
Among my mother’s things were lists. Here’s one ((I could have written most of those items — they are often on my own lists — especially “Clean Attic.”)):
2017 has not been a very good year for me. Nothing outrageous has happened. Work’s fine. No one close to me has died ((Well, not counting Leo)). The kids are doing well.
But I have been smoldering all year long and I have been getting angry or hurt about small things. Of course I know why I am angry. I am angry that I don’t feel like I know the country I live in any more. It has become ugly. It is one huge Ugly American.
I’ve fought the ugly American label for so long, but now it doesn’t seem to matter what I do or how I act. I am from the United States, therefore an ugly American. I am from the country that voted a racist, misogynistic, xenophobic reality TV actor as our leader. I live in a country whose leaders are turning back progressive laws. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t vote for this man, it only matters that I have a U. S. passport.
I’ve spent this year eating too much, drinking too much and sleeping too much. Buying too much crap. I have likely been depressed since November 2016. I have let myself “go” in a number of ways and this has got to stop.
That’s why 2018 is going to be the year of hope for me. The year of setting priorities. The year of not being angry anymore.
I still have lots to do, so the Declutter series will continue.
Also, there is a new 365 challenge beginning on January 1. Follow along here.
Clutch Cargo Lips 