My F**k-it List, Part 1

bucket I don't have a “Bucket list.”

This is, perhaps, odd, given how much I actually enjoy making lists and setting goals and so forth. And, sure, there are things that I would like to accomplish in this life, places I would like to see. Just off the top of my head, I'd like to learn how to play the guitar, finish that drawing course. I'd like to buy a bit of land and build a prefab modernist house on it. I have some ideas for writing goals. On the other hand, I have no burning desire to, say, scale Mount Everest before I die or (God forbid) travel to all 52 of the United States in an Airstream trailer. Or do anything in an Airstream trailer, for that matter.

airstream trailer

Except maybe this one.

What I do have, in lieu of a bucket list, is its opposite: a “Fuck-it List.” I've been keeping a running tally of things that I officially will never aspire to do. These are all things that I have toyed with the idea of doing at some point in my life, things that I have wanted to do — or, perhaps more accurately, wanted to want to do. But the truth of the matter is, at this point in my life I don't want to do them. In some cases, I never really wanted to do them; in others, I have simply accepted my inability to do them, or the fact that circumstances mean that during them will be highly impractical and/or not worth the effort. In any case, have officially renounced any intention of expending energy to achieve them.

It's very freeing, giving up on misguided dreams. It opens the door to so much more. Over the next few days, I'm going to share a few of my Fuck-it List items with you. So, here, in no particular order, are the first few:

1. Running a marathon. In fact, I’ll get even less ambitious: running, period. I hate running and I always have. At least since puberty. I especially hate running long distances. I turn purple, and I stay purple for hours. My breasts hurt when I run and my back and my shoulders hurt if I try to put on one of those so-called “running bras” that are ostensibly meant to keep my breasts from hurting while running. I hate the way I gasp for air and the way my throat hurts and parches. And, frankly, my body already deals with enough pain without adding running to the mix and descending into an entirely different level of daily discomfort. Also, running is boring. I will gladly cheer you on in your own marathon or half marathon or 5K or whatever floats your boat, but I will never, ever, run with you.

2. Going on a cruise. I get seasick. Also, I really like, when I go somewhere, to know that I have the option of leaving.

3. Dog ownership. This one is (OMG I completely did not intend the following pun) a bitch, because PUGS. And BOXERS. But here’s the thing: I’d have to walk the dog every day, and I live in Thunder Bay, where it is often cold and miserable. I don’t like getting up a thousand times a day to open the door and close it. I don’t ever want to pick up steaming dog poop and carry it around in a plastic bag. I don’t want to step on dog poop in my own backyard. I don’t want an overly needy animal poking its nose into my crotch all day long. I don’t want the house to smell like dog. I don’t want dog hair. I don’t want barking. I don’t want the expense. I don’t want to rush home from wherever I am to let the dog out. I don’t want to have to arrange for somebody to take care of the dog every time I want to go away overnight. I now completely understand what my mother meant when she said, “It’s me or a dog.”

So, yup: I don’t want one. Phew.

What's on your Fuck-It list?

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I am taking part in NaBloPoMo, National Blog Posting Month, which has me posting a blog entry every day throughout the month of November.