I’ve spent some time, recently (clearly I have a touch too much of it on my hands) debating the merits of creating a bucket list. Am I too lazy to maintain it? Will it spiral out of control and resemble less an achievable travel-list and more the fantasy rambles of a madwoman? Will I ever actually tick anything off it, or will it exist merely to make me feel more ambitious than I am? Doesn’t ‘bucket list’ imply that I am dying? Aren’t we all dying anyway? What do I actually want to do? I hate bungee jumping.
And then, this morning, spurred on by two large mugs of Pike Place Roast (Starbucks in my own home) I bit the bullet and created the Non Bucket Bucket List. Non Bucket because I feel uncomfortable giving it the name that implies I have weeks to live (and if I do have weeks to live, I’d rather not know about it, Powers at Play) and Bucket because, inarguably, it’s a list of things I’d like to see and do before my time is up, which makes it … a bucket list.
Hast du eine Bucket List?