​There’s a cleansing feeling when you shred your “to do” list. It’s purging your insides.
 
All week long you hammer away.
 
“Remember to pick up groceries on drive home.”
 
“Send report to Bamberger by COB Wednesday.”

“Get cash for weekend.”
 
“Make lunch reservation with Epstein.”
 
“Pick up beer.”


Take the list, head down to the shredder. Slip the notes in one by one. Listen to that marvelous grinding sound as they get chewed up. All your deadlines are gone. You accomplished something by getting all those chores -- work and home – accomplished. Now you can sigh and start filling up your brain again.

Despite knowing you will have much more to do in the coming week, there is something cathartic about watching and hearing the paper cut into tiny pieces. I think part of the gut wonderful feeling is seeing the paper being swallowed by the machine. It’s going away. So are all those things you meant to do this week. You accomplished something. That makes you feel good.
 
A couple of weeks ago, I had an extra busy week. You could feel pressure driven by external demands, which resulted in me writing many “to do’s” down. It seemed like an avalanche pouring down from high on a mountain, rumbling towards my brain.

When you have a day or week like that, unless you jot down what needs to get done, your brain jumbles up. You don’t accomplish anything. It’s much easier to sit and feel the chaos generated around you. “Honey, what did you do today,” your spouse poses to you when you return home.


“Uh, I don’t remember. I forgot to write it down.”
 
Chances are you will forget. And not just because you didn’t write it down. Churn causes forgetfulness.
 
Years ago, my editor put yellow sticky notes on her desk on a daily basis. I remember walking in to hand her copy for our newsletter and seeing a long scribbled list. Certain items were crossed off. Others were written with large exclamation points at the end for greater emphasis or the words were put in ALL CAPS.
 
She didn’t have a shredder, so she was a master of crumbling it up and tossing it in the garbage can at the end of the day (or week). I doubt she got quite as much pleasure as there is when you shred, but I could see the feeling of joy on her face watching the yellow notepad paper being scrunched up and thrown. There’s probably a similar sense of finishing the job off and finality from that routine.
 
Now though we get the hum of the shredder. We hear the buzz. We watch its jaws clutch the paper and slowly feed it to its death.
 
After all the notes are slipped into its clutches, you’re done. Go home. Eat dinner. Read a book. Watch TV. Take a bike ride. Go for a walk. Play pickup basketball. Enjoy your dogs. Let the deadlines and chores go.

Because they’re back the next day or after the weekend and you have to begin making lists again. Remember that you’ve got that shredder waiting at the end of the line though when you call it quits. It will give you little extra something to look forward to.