There are times when I hate to be right, and this is one of them. I was dreading May, way back at the beginning of it; and here comes the end, the goodbyes, and all that bittersweet.
And I only like bittersweet when it's applied to chocolate.
But here's the thing: I can't make all my lamenting sound interesting to myself. So I'll spare you the moaning. And we can all breathe sighs of relief.
Instead of talking about the anxiety tunneling through my heart--yikes--I thought: let's do a festival. A festival of lists. Because I love lists.
A list is a collection of brain splinters, in neat order. Just looking at one gives me a thrill. (Yes. You already knew I had a fair streak of nerdiness in me, right? So there it is. Lists thrill me. Now you know.)
Also: I think a series of lists might just preserve my sanity. So that's what we'll do. Scatter about a bunch of lists, like a breadcrumb trail, and somehow somehow I'll make it from this moment into early June.
Listapalooza 2011. I'm so up for this.
(Obviously, very inspired by the brilliant Hula Seventy.)
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