There is a show on HGTV called love it or list it. A designer tries to make the owner who wants to move, love their old house and the real estate agent tries to find the perfect house that will convince the one who wants to stay, to move. In the end they have to decide whether to love their old house and stay, or list it and move to the new house.
The transformation is remarkable, and I can never decide what I would do.
(This has no connection to the inspiration for the poem below! It’s just how I came up with the title of the blog.))
What to do with your list
I’ll take a little time to spend
On this list that just won’t end.
Its full of things that sound like fun.
Mundane things? No, not one.
It has no chores I should attack
It isn’t passion that I lack
I’m less young now…
I looked today and realized
The list should be prioritized.
The U(s) should come before the I(s).
Hello(s) turn quickly to goodbyes.
I can’t decide where I should start
The beginning, end, or middle part.
Where were these interests years ago?
The seeds took too long to sew and grow.
Sew what?
As for those things not yet begun?
Here’s a thought that really stung
I’m too old now to die young.
(Think opposite of cheek in tongue.)
When I have a good idea
others quickly say, “I’ll see ya!”
They all know how my mind works.
(Think craziness and lots of quirks.)
I was once more reserved, you see
I think that tinfoil crown unnerved me.
(Pretend unnerved means took away nervous shyness)
Anyway…
That list that caused me so much strife
Is no longer part of my life.
I’ve embraced… ashes to ashes
The list is now where the trash is.
I’m over it.
Those 70ish Girls 
Ah, lists. I know them well.
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And I’m sure you look at them. You seem to be an organized person.
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The only list I ever make is a grocery list and I always forget it and leave it on the kitchen counter 🤔
Sent from my iPhone
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I do that too, countrygirl and usually forget the thing I went to the store for.
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