It’s called a fuck it list.
I recently wrote a post about my bucket list – the things I’d like to spend my life doing, other considerations aside.
Writing it, my mind filled with loveliness: days of travel and family and writing things just for the heck of it.
Then only a matter of a few hours later I was looking for a plastic box and a lid that matched and it struck me that there are a great many things I’d quite cheerfully never do again.
- Rooting around in the plastic box drawer for a matching set.
- Busting a gut to get somewhere on time only to find I had cocked up and the event was yesterday.
- Having to change my clothes before I’ve even left the house because someone smeared me with something, usually snot, but sometimes not.
- Picking junk mail of the mat and putting it in the recycling bin.
- Ending a phone call without swearing while someone is telling me about there being some amazing offer in my area at the moment.
- Ironing almost all of a shirt before spotting a nasty stain on the last bit.
- Ten pin bowling and crazy golf.
- Eating bran flakes.
- Looking for things in my handbag.
- Looking for things in my house.
- Trying to understand cricket.
- Putting up flatpacked furniture.
- Reminding members of my family about matters of personal hygiene.
I’m sure there are many many more candidates for the fuck it list, but that’s it for now.
And credit for the name of this list goes to Keris Stainton, thanks Keris.