The List of Impossible Tasks, Part 1

Lately I’ve been thinking about impossible tasks. Many moons ago when I was shorter, seeing over the countertop was impossible without the aid of Sheila, my cranberry red stepstool. She never seemed to be where I left her, wandering off to stupid places like the bathroom when I needed her at breakfast to stir the oatmeal, bowing dangerously low over the burner in concentration. While she angered me immensely with her importune hideaways, I knew Sheila would help me accomplish my task. If I could find her. I wonder if I already have the tools I need to achieve my current list of impossible tasks, which I began to write down yesterday. Maybe? The list grew long-ish, then longer. A few? If you knew more, perhaps you could offer a solid opinion. Okay, then, I’ll share.

Touching my toes
Under extreme duress, I can absolutely pass the presidential fitness test with minimal cheating. The last successful test was completed in 1998. No applause, please. However, these hamstrings were not made for stretching, and, despite years of faithful yoga, will not budge floorward. Daily stretching now yields a firm handhold of toe, provided they are touched separately, singly, and only following a show of athleticism.

Keeping the entry table clear of crap
This one isn’t entirely my fault, which is about 75% of the reason it proves impossible. No matter where I live, it seems that whatever holding area is directly within view of the door will always look slovenly. Maybe the trick is to only invite people who can see past the mess — the t-shirt holding chair, piles of mail and torn notes, snarled computer cords, recipe cards, renegade tools — and into the semi-clean living room.

Shaving my legs in winter
Yep, it’s downright hippie, which I’m not, but I keep ‘em covered in winter from both ends. No need for people to think I'm making a statement. Tights or knee-highs going up, pants coming down. I'm not proud or ashamed of this; it is what it is.

Maintaining a library outtake level that I can carry in a single trip
Sadly, I am far too greedy. I blame the boondocks, but truthfully this has always been a problem. I used to bike to the library to keep the load low. (This was before I had a bike basket.) And then I’d get there and think “Oh it’s not far, I can make it” and stack up, balancing precariously on the hills of my winding, sidewalkless neighborhood for the three miles home.

Pullups
Damn upper body strength. I’m not sure I can hang on the bar for 20 seconds anymore either.

Sitting still during uncomfortable silences
I’ll tell you anything if you’re eerily quiet.

{End part one of a long, working list. Stay tuned for more. Unfortunately.}