I just wrote “bake muffins” on my to-do list.
I’m not saying I make fabulous muffins. I enjoy baking, my kids like muffins. And I’ve made dozens of recipes over the past six years or so, some much better than others.
So making muffins is not a big deal. It’s not “overturn landmark court case” or “pay bills.” It’s not “submit proposal” or “email President for advice on major issue.”
It’s just muffins.
But I’ve been meaning to make muffins for about a year. Haven’t remembered.
Let me repeat that so I can bask in my ludicrousness: I can’t remember to ask my kids to measure some flour and sugar with me. For a year. Despite intention, despite planning.
I just plain ol’ forget.
I’ve gotten to the point where I have to jot down reminders to call my friends. And to plan the weekend. And to mail a package that’s been on my desk for two weeks.
Two weeks. And I have to write a note to remember it. Sitting right there, looking at me, and I won’t remember unless it’s on the list.
Maybe I have list dependency. Maybe I need more sleep. Maybe I have early onset something. Maybe I have childbirth-onset something.
Or maybe I refuse. Maybe deep down I know there are perfectly good muffins at the store, and I have other stuff to do without spending 20 minutes sifting and whisking. And cleaning up that which resisted sifting or whisking.
Regardless of the cause, it seems that it might be a cry for help, that “bake muffins” on my list.
So tomorrow I’ll make muffins with my kids. Or by myself, after they go to sleep. Or not at all because who really needs muffins, anyway?
Anything lingering and lingering and lingering on your list? Does it remain there because you forget or because you passive aggressively forget?