Signs of Spring

The first signs of Spring are occuring. The seed catalogues are coming daily. "The hermit gets tucked so warm in his bed, while visions of Sugar Plum Tomatoes dance in his head". As usual, I have made extensive lists of the things that I would like. It would be so nice to have enough land to plant so many things.
I have been an inverterate list maker since I was eleven years old. I can still remember the list I made to go to Summer Camp. I never went to the camp but I can still recall all of the things that I thought that I would need there. I would have looked strange, arriving at the camp in a semi trailer full of stuff.
I have made so many lists since then. Lists of kitchen tools, lists of automobile options, lists of Aurora plane models, lists of types of chickens, and the list of types of lists goes on and on. No wonder I identify so much with Alan Harper. The joy I get from making each month's shopping list is perverted.
The only type of list that I avoid is the terrifying TO DO List. I have enough guilt in my life about the things that I have done. To put together a packet of things that will never get done is to create a bomb of guilt that will explode at a future time. I do very little and that is probably the reason that I feel so contented. The only way for me to avoid mistakes and failures and disappointments is to not do anything. This may seem to be overly pessimistic but I know me. My Brother has called me Gunner. Gunner do this and Gunner do that. It bothered me when he first did it but I thought about it and realized that he was right. My Brother is able to decide on doing something and, like a young beaver, keep concentrating on it until it is done. I bounce from one unfinished project to another. La Petite Anglais told me that I was high functioning A.D.D.. If anyone was qualified to make such a judgement, she was. My whole family is riddled with that condition.
Speaking of conditions, I hope that I don't develop any. I just got my new medical plan from the company that I used to work for, "Bob's Pretty Good Medical Plan". I have misgivings about how effective it will be. All of the doctors that subscibe to the plan have last names that start with three consonants. The places that issued their medical degrees are a mystery to me. I don't even know where Karachi is. I do know where Grenada is and one thing that is troubling is that they are not M.D.'s. They all seem to be D.O.'s. There it is, the sinister DO. If one would have to write to them, would you address the letter TO DO? (shudder, shudder, shudder). I can visualize their list. "February: Order more leeches, eye of newt, and dragon's blood.".
I remember my Father's advice on finding a doctor, "Always find a Jewish doctor. In any field, because of prejudice, Jews have to work twice as hard and be twice as good as anyone else just to achieve parity.".
The latest project was Pot Roast. Not just any Pot Roast but French Pot Roast! Of course, being French, it required fifty pots and one hundred ingredients. It came out O.K. and would have been better if I had taken the time to reduce a bottle of Pinot Noir down to one cup and had had some anchovies. I'm gunner try it again at a later date.
I will close now as the pile of used tissues is about to keel over. This cold, or whatever it is just keeps hanging on, and I have been declared "The Phantom of Phlegm".