In my favorite Ann Tyler novel, 'The Accidental Tourist,' travel writer Macon Leary decides to save time and energy by eating popcorn at every meal and washing his clothes while he showers. This decision was motivated by depression, but I couldn't help admiring his minimalist lifestyle.
My brain is so filled with Things That Need Doing, I feel like a wimpy Atlas trying to hold up the world. The list swirls around me in the morning, and slaps me on the back of the head in the evening. 'Thanks for nothing,' it grumbles as I pass by. Life would be so much easier if inanimate objects would hold their tongues.
When, oh when will I finally touch up the paint on the kitchen cabinets, weed the garden, work on my novel, wash clothes, dust (so hard to do without a gun to my head) vacuum, change the sheets in the spare bedrooms, get the car washed, go to zumba, make meals, binge on Netflix when I should be writing, attend choir practice and massage the kale before making a salad (this one is from my friend, Lois. I never knew how I was neglecting this vegetable.)
I have no children living at home but I feel busy anyway. And I'm terrible at multitasking. I can't help comparing my life to that of a cave dweller ten thousand years ago. Here's what her list would say.
Pray mate lives through mammoth hunt so no need to flirt with caveman UGH, who can't be bothered to run a twig through his teeth
Pick bone out of supper dish to wear in hair
Weave basket and fill with berries
Doesn't that sound relaxing? Like a camping trip that never ends. For sister, Jennifer, this would be torture. To me, it's ideal. Other benefits of living like a cave woman:
No make-up application, just slap on some bear fat if the hunt was good.
Tie hair in a knot. Add bone. Repeat in six months.
Nurse naked baby. Let naked baby play on cave floor. Give naked baby large bone for chewing.
Light fire to keep animals away.
I love camping. But making the pots from animal hide and scavenging for food may prove too challenging. Especially when I accidentally let the fire go out and have to embrace the raw foods movement. The upside is, I wouldn't have a list that nags me. No pens, no paper, no computers. No email, or Facebook, or twitter. No books to read or television to watch. No shaving for men or, happily, for women. No saving for retirement, just a gifting of the woven baskets and pots after I reach the creaking old age of thirty.
Instead of whining on my blog, I would regale my fellow cave dwellers with tales of the day's difficulties. The basket didn't turn out, there were no berries, we might all starve. On second thought, maybe I'll embrace my life as a modern woman and let my To Do List bend my ear for a few more minutes. After all, I took the time to write this blog post. I can certainly combine some dusting with Netflix binging. Do some laundry between shows. As it turns out, as long as there's some entertainment involved, I can multitask after all.