Its Official

It's official, I am the world's worst blogger. I just read my last post where I vowed to write something completely uncancer related within 24 hours. At last count, that was over two weeks ago. It is the same reason I have never been a good journal keeper. When the going gets good, and somewhat interesting...I find myself to busy to want to stop and write it all down. Here are my feeble attempts to catch up, and give myself some peace of mind.

Peace of mind. It is at the top of my current list. It is written in black ink and is immediately followed by the word blog. I always have a list. I love everything about them. I make new ones everyday, and can often be found carrying around up to three or four lists at a time. Grocery lists, things to tell my mom lists, Christmas lists, books to read lists, and of course, the beloved To Do lists. They are my favorite. I love the satisfaction of being able to cross tasks off one by one as I complete them. I have even been known to go back to my list and write in a job I have just finished. One that wasn't even on the list, just so I can cross it off.

So currently, it is 4:15 am and I can't sleep. the ugly side to lists, is that they can haunt you. Things left uncrossed off the list loom large in the middle of the night as you think about the stuff you still need to do. 'Write on my Blog' has now been moved to its seventh, and for now final list. I am going to cross off peace of mind as well, and hopefully I can get to sleep. In the meantime, I have a new list: Christmas, my anniversary, Amy Barlow, Brandon, the ice skating rink, surprise gift baskets. Yes, it's the things I plan to blog about list. And the lists go on.

P.S. as an interesting side note. I took typing in the seventh grade, at Franklin Jr. High on a manual typewriter. Sitting nest to me the whole semester was one of the largest crushes of my lifetime, Mario Cunningham. As a result, my typing suffered greatly. I am the world's worst typer. Before spell check, this blog entry had 25 misspelled words. That is pathetic, especially because I was looking at my hands the whole time. Dear Mrs. Lusk, my typing teacher, if you are out there, I am sorry.