making my lists

I'm a list maker. It's how I organize my life, my thoughts, my self. David has taken to teasing me about the lists--the many, many lists. I admit that this need of mine is a bit ridiculous, but he keeps telling me that were something to happen to me and someone find my lists, they would think I was crazy. Perhaps. With the holidays, my list making has gone into a frenzy. I've got lists for everything--

• groceries to buy,
• things to buy at Target,
  
• things to get at Costco,
  
• things to do today,
  
• things to do tomorrow,
  
• things to complete to be ready for Christmas,
  
• gifts to get for each person,
  
• books to read for me (there are about twelve of these lists circulating about the house),
  
• things to do with Sarah,
• stocking stuffers to get
  
• books to request at the library,
  
• books to read to Sarah,
  
• things to blog about (obviously not quite getting off the ground),
  
• good ideas of things to make/do/buy,
  
• things to do weeks ago that didn't get done yet.
  

And there are more. I must have notepads and index cards handy at all times in case I need to make a list. I resorted to an old gas receipt the other day in the car when I needed to make a quick list. They make perfect sense to me even though they likely look like gibberish to someone else. I also check them twice. Or thrice. Okay. Continuously. And I really like checking things off of them and throwing them away. Or keeping them. Maybe I am crazy. I should probably make a list of the reasons why I'm not crazy.