I have lots of lists. Some are written in pen and ink in fancy notebooks, some scribbled on the back of discarded envelopes, some twirling about in my head. I have many things I'd like to do, and all these things compete for my attention like little children pulling on my pant leg. And like little children, they usually just need a deep breathe, a cookie and a nice nap, and then the next right thing to do reveals itself.
To do: breathe, eat, sleep. There's only one real "to do" list.