I've been trying to wean myself off of lists.
Not in general, but here, on the blog. I've been leaning so hard on them that, combined with the cheery nature of my Five Things Fridays lists, I've begun to feel a bit like Tiny Tim with his crutch and his "God bless us, every one!" I'm afraid that down this list-strewn path lay the inability to form a cohesive story and an attention span that lasts no longer than four sentences.
So far all that's come of this is a certain paralysis anytime I think about the blog. I know it may often seem as if my upper limbs engaged in an ill-advised date with the rototiller and this blog is written by two bandaged stumps merrily smashing away at the keyboard. (They have unerring aim for the bullet point button.). There is a certain amount of thought that goes into these posts, however, and yet take away my list format, and all I can think about is how for a time my sister believed our dad was the Zodiac Killer. This sounds absurd, unless you actually know my dad- not that he's the type of person you meet and think, I bet you drive a sketchy white paneled van, because he's actually very charming and funny and makes a mean pot of chili. It's just that he's also a little eccentric and has serial killer handwriting, plus he's a crack shot- I mean, I'm sure if his neighbors were informed of his newfound criminal status at first they'd be like, "WHAT? No way! He's such a nice guy!" But then after a day or so they'd start saying, " Yeah, I can see that." Kelli did eventually decide our father is not a mass murderer (phew!), although not before I read a murder mystery where the demented villain just happens to share the first and last names of my father. But then, so does one of our local meteorologists. I don't know what that says about the weather guy- I'd have to see his handwriting.
Haha! I did it! It's barely coherent, but I wrote a list-less post. Not listless, you understand, just lacking a list.