For as long as I can remember I've been a maker of lists, an obsessive one at that. One weekend some months ago Andrea told me she no longer made lists for her days off; days off, she said, are days off. Relax was what she was really saying, it's cool. Things will get done. Does it matter in what order they get crossed off?
Must things get crossed off at all? became my thinking.
Andrea has a lot of wise things to say, but the no lists thing in particular wedged its way in and immediately I stopped ordering myself about. Bar the odd shopping list, that's it. Lists and I are a thing of the past, a habit of years gone, just like that. It feels good and, amazingly, perhaps, things still get done. Garden lists were always the worst - as long as my arm and bossy in a way that, ordinarily, I am not - but we've spent the past 12 months planting via the synodic method, an ancient and somewhat romantic notion of planting by the waxing and waning of the moon. It's a system that indicates that certain tasks are better done in certain phases of the moon; it brings a rhythm to each month that allows you to know what tasks need doing simply by observing the moon, something I've been drawn to doing since I was a little girl.