Picking Up the Pieces

I live and die by my "to-do" lists; I feel a certain smug satisfaction when I tick off something there. Sad, right?

I used to be an organizational mess, but now, today, I am a man who makes lists in order to tread water in a cubicle culture. Thank God for my OCD finally setting in later in life.

I wish I could make the metaphor that a project even making it onto the list is akin to being admitted to a popular club with the velvet ropes and whatnot, but that would belie my professional stature.

This week, I was confronted this week with something that made me feel uneasy and a little sick to my stomach-- I misplaced my list. My carefully, well-thought-out list of objectives and goals was nowhere to be found. Crap. A small panic attack set in. I felt off. After being dejected and unslewing a string of curse words, I tried to put together the magical list anew. I could tell certain projects were missing, something was off.

I'm glad when I found it a day later...the uneasiness was soon gone.