I see the signs: the blossoms on the hydrangea are turning pink, the days are getting shorter, I'm dragging out my sweatshirts. Summer's over, fall is upon us. The seasons are passing more and more quickly. Some people, considering this, create a bucket list. Not the sort our friend Homer created, but a list of things they want to do before they kick the proverbial bucket.
I don't have such a list, although there are some things I would put on one: visit Mont St. Michel, publish my latest collection of poetry, meet the man of my dreams. (hope springs eternal).
But as I consider that every day I have 86,400 fewer seconds than I did the day before, I've decided it’s more important to cross some things off my list, and thereby clear away space and time for the important stuff. To wit, I present my Un-bucket List: Things that I have decided I never have to do:
- read Ulysses
- eat raw oysters
- dust the top of the refrigerator
- write the great American novel, or any novel for that matter
- learn the difference between a sine and a cosine
- run a marathon
- climb anything higher than the step ladder
- learn how to fold fitted sheets
- learn to play the violin
- travel to a pole—North or South (sorry, Santa)
- swim with sharks
- invite the Queen to tea
- alphabetize my books
- run for elected office
- cheer for the Yankees
If forced by circumstances or embarrassment, I may do any of the following:
- drive in NYC
- watch another Eugene O’Neill play (I know, I know, it’s great art, but it puts me to sleep)
- roll out a pie crust
- run, except to catch a runaway dog
OK, I've cleared away a bit of time. Now I think I'll take a nap--that's always on my list of things to do.