Where’s my list?” I said, shuffling through papers on the table in the breakfast nook. How many times had I said that in my life?
“Which one?” John asked, ribbing me. My husband liked to tease me about the many to-do lists I always had going. A list to prepare for this, another list to prepare for that. Very organized and comforting. A way to stave off worry.
Sometimes I wondered how other people got through life without a similar strategy. I was a pathological planner, but I had a good excuse for it these days.
