I had a list of stuff to achieve today but I got barely half of it done. I like making lists, I make a lot of lists, and I sometimes stop myself from making lists because very often my list items tend to stay Not Done. For some reason list-making me envisages task-doing me as a perfectly functional, rational adult who revels in completing things to the best of her ability, despite decades of evidence to the contrary. Writing things down puts them in the domain of this mythical creature who gets shit done, and I the list-writer, my list-writing job completed, carry on blithely into the future to do fuck-knows-what and never look at the list again. Hence I managed to hand in the assignment due today, because it was not on the list, but not to tidy the house. I would like for the house to be tidy. I would like for my lounge room to look like a magazine photographer is due any moment to document its perfection for posterity, every single day. I would like to know what that plastic shopping bag of mystery stuff sitting next to the bookcase is and to be able to deal with it effectively but just not right now. Later. Maybe tomorrow.