W. BRUCE CAMERON

W. BRUCE CAMERON

The Internet and computers have made me so efficient I no longer can accomplish anything. I even have a computerized to-do list so that I can manage my tasks electronically by printing the list. The list runs several pages and really bores me.

Who can do tasks, anymore? By the time I’ve checked e-mail, read my Twitter tweets and looked into what my friends on Facebook are doing, it’s time to check my e-mail again. In fact, the only tasks I can cross off the list are the ones I add after I’ve already done them, like, eat some fudge. (Check!)

Patty Mae Phillips writes, Just dropped peanut butter on my kitchen floor! LOL! LOL!

I write back, LOL Patty Mae!

Task: Write Patty Mae. (Check!)

See what I mean? I don’t have time to balance the checkbook with Patty Mae making lunch, I need to LOL.

(I have no idea who Patty Mae is, or how we got to be Facebook friends. I do know she drops a lot of stuff on her kitchen floor and should probably look into getting a dog.)

Another problem with to-do lists is that too often evil people such as my wife will find them sitting on the kitchen table and then read them, even though it is clearly privileged, classified information for which she lacks proper clearance.

“You’re going to fix the screen door?” she asks.

“No, I won’t have time for that today,” I reply.

“It’s on your list!” she points out.

“Yes, but ... Honey, I can’t concentrate on this conversation. I’m busy writing.” I don’t know what kind of dog, Patty Mae, just one who likes peanut butter LOL.

Even worse is when evil people such as my wife add tasks to the already over-burdened to-do list.

“Replace the light bulb in the kitchen?” I demand, outraged. “What’s that doing on my to-do list?”

“It’s something which I would like you to-do,” my wife replies illogically.

“You can’t write stuff on a man’s to-do list. That’s like going to Italy and throwing paint on the Mona Lisa.”

“The Mona Lisa is in Paris,” she says.

“Exactly!” I thunder. I tweet Nobody told me the Mona Lisa was in Paris LOL.

LOL, people tweet back.

“It’s a sign of an organized man that he only does the important tasks and skips the unimportant tasks,” I pontificate to my wife, who yawns in fascination.

“I’d say it is pretty important to change the light bulb in the kitchen,” she says.

“Why? Are you worried you’re going to drop peanut butter?” I shoot back.

“What on earth are you talking about?”

I elect not to reply because I’m not really sure. My attention span has become so fractured by the barrage of communication from Facebook strangers that I no longer can remember things longer than a few seconds.

“I just don’t want you adding things to my personal private to-do list. It’s long enough already,” I complain.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so long if you didn’t write things like, “Brush teeth.”

“I did brush my teeth,” I respond. (Check!)

“What about this,” she challenges. “Put on left sock. Put on right sock.”

(Check!) (Check!)

“A man’s to-do list is his Mona Lisa,” I tell her. “Stop throwing paint on it.”

“When are you going to fix the screen door?” she asks.

“Is it on the list?”

“Yes!”

“Then never.”

I change my status update to read, My wife wants me to fix the screen door. LOL. Within 30 seconds, six people have “liked” it, and three people I don’t know from Facebook have written LOL.

“If you don’t replace the light bulb in the kitchen, I won’t be able to see, and I won’t be able to cook dinner.”

When evil people such as my wife use such confrontational tactics, it is a direct and reprehensible attack on my stomach.

“OK, I’ll replace the light bulb,” I grumble. My to-do list explodes with tasks. Agree to change the light bulb. (Check!) Get stool. (Check!) Get light bulb. (Check!) Remove old bulb. (Check!) Put in new one. (Check!)

How many tasks does it take to change a light bulb? I tweet.

LOL, people respond. LOL.

To write Bruce Cameron, visit his website at http://www.wbrucecameron.com.

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