What is it in the human psyche (assuming that everything else has a psyche and is not subject to this idiotsynchrosy) that causes us to focus on what we have not done, our endless list of sins of omission? Measuring our misfortune by our flaws. The mental flagellation that we apparently so require - unlike Pope John Paul II, I do not scourge myself with my belt, but with my infernal list of Things to Do. At the end of the week, I tote up Things Not Done. Things accomplished are soon forgotten; things not completed are highlighted with my hot pink highlighter. In an effort to mitigate this unfortunate tendency, I am not going to list herein either the things I did get done, nor the ones un-done. But, being the good Catholic Midwestern girl I am, I will not abandon my list, either. I tried that, and couldn't seem to remember to tie my shoes without a List of Things to Do. I'm considering losing the hot pink highlighter, though. Well, it's Saturday morning, and I'm off to finish up the week's list. If I can find it. I will proceed with precarious optimism.