New Year, the holiday for neurotics

New Year is one of my most favorite times of year. I love that everything gets a clean slate, that all of your bad habits are a thing of the past and somehow, this year, things will change. I love the Rose Bowl Parade, cleaning out my closets, and having a day off work that you don't feel compelled to spend with your family. But most of all I love the list making. Nothing in this world makes me happier than making lists, and posting them and then crossing things off of them. I make lists for everything; long-term projects, short-term projects, things to do before I die, grocery lists for every store in town (should I ever need to stop at the west-side grocery store I have a list that reminds me what products are sold there that are not sold at my store). The list goes on and on. I even just love to say the word list. I make them when I am anxious to relax me or when I am excited (what to do with Chad's bonus check!).

I recognize that the lists may be the most obvious manifestation of my particular brand of crazy, but I can't give them up. My lists are my measure of my accomplishments, how far I have come in a year. It is the best way for me to pause for introspection when usually the only direction it seems like I go is forward, full speed ahead. I will spend the next week combing through all the lists I have hidden in my datebooks, notebooks, white boards and cork boards to make the list of where I am going this year. If I hit a snag there is always the do-over of Chinese New Year. How can you not love a holiday that requires you to sweep out your whole house? Because if there is anything I love more than a list, it is a list that states the order in which I will clean my house.