Is that not the lamest title EVER? A bad pun on a bad movie from the 80s. I apologize. Please carry on.

Wannadoo, Wannadooo-ooo-OOOOO…

I can only sing the first few measures of that song, since I never saw “Xanadu.” But I saw Olivia Newton-John — whose name I always want to hyphenate in all three places, so that it looks like Olivia-Newton-John, which if true would mean I guess that she has three last names and a mystery first name, like maybe Muriel — in “Grease.” Does that count for something?

To steal from Ellen DeGeneres, my point, and I do have one, is that I’ve had the above adaptation of Xanadu playing in my head on this rainy morning. It’s because I’ve been thinking about my to-do list.

Now maybe this is just me, but I am easily overwhelmed by a simple to-do list. I look at three, five or ten tasks that I have to do, and my brain locks up. My first response to “must do” is either “I can’t,” or, “You can’t make me.”

This brings me to today’s problem: My to-do list for the week is very long. So of course all I want to do is lie on the couch and gaze up at the clouds and rain. All morning I’ve been practicing my newest clever self-manipulation to trick myself into doing something.

(That’s a subject for an entire post: how I always use reverse psychology on myself.)

Here’s my latest way to push myself toward productivity: Instead of worrying about everything I “HAVE TO DO” I try to ask myself what I “WANT DONE.” Just a change in semantics, really, but so far it’s fooling my twelve-year-old self.

What do I WANT done? Well, I’m glad you finally came around and realized that you’re not the boss of me.

Hmmmm… I think I WANT for us all to have clean clothes. So I believe I shall go wash some socks and underwear. And then I shall sweep the kitchen floor, because I want all the dog hair dust bunnies gone. I will do these things whether you want me to or not! And don’t try to stop me!

Yet another topic I need to write about: When did I get so old that a dog-hair-free floor or an empty hamper gives me more joy than a brand-new bike on Christmas morning? That’s depressing.