Ambitious Lists

When all of this went down, I was contemplating dropping out of IComLeavWe this month. Granted, it wasn't the first thing on my mind, but it was there.

How can I read about everyone else's lives when mine feels like it's falling apart? How can I share joy? Offer comfort? Commiserate? Laugh, even? Those were my thoughts from what feels like ages ago.

Today, on this sunny, brisk morning, I am thinking that I can. Not only that I can, but I should. And that it will feel good.

This morning, armed with my cup of (decaf) coffee, I am so ready to crack open my computer and visit some worlds that aren't mine right now. Look out, ladies. I'ma comin' over!

And I am not stopping there. After I get my bloggy fill, I have big plans for today which include:

1. getting dressed (look out, world)
   
2. ironing
3. watering my plants
4. addressing and sending the remaining announcements and Xmas cards
5. making soup (and maybe some cookies)
6. calling our RE to see when we can come over, talk, hug, check out some donor profiles
   
7. cracking open my work email (if only to peek. L, don't get mad. I won't do anything useful)
8. doing more research on possible avenues that might lead me to my birth parents (dear readers - comments and suggestions are welcome)
9. prepping some walls I plan to paint (because, well, I have all these cans of no VOC paint)
   
10. maybe, just maybe, going to the gym
    
11. finishing The Big Year and then,
    
12. taking a walk to the library

By then, M. will be home and ready to share his latest sleuthing ideas (see #8).

So, did this post really devolve into a mundane "how I plan to spend my day?" Yes, sorry. I'm afraid it did. But for those of you who know me in real life, this should bring a smile to your face. Because is there anything that signals a return to (semi-)normalcy than my anal-retentive lists?