My New Year’s Resolution — Do Less. Not More. Subtract!

My 2023 New Year’s resolution is — do less this year, not more.

Instead of creating yet another to-do list for the new year, I’m tearing up some lists I’ve already got.

That’s the plan anyway.

Ever since Jon departed and left me holding the grocery list, the handyman list, the tax info list, and the Christmas card list — to name but a few — I’ve had way too many to-do lists on my to-do list.

I can’t do it all. I just can’t.

And I’ve got some smart people telling me to stop trying.

A few months after Jon’s death, his 101-year-old godfather called me up to say quit working so hard. Forget those writing deadlines. Give yourself a break. Spend the sliver of time you have left to you with the people you love. That’s what matters.

I wrote what he said on a sticky note, stuck it by the phone, and went back to my to-do lists.

Ilene Cummings, a woman I interviewed way back in 2001 for my book, “Wrestling with God,” was entering her 70s at the time. She wanted to talk about getting older. Getting older is all about subtraction, she said, subtracting one thing after another from one’s plans for the day,  and for life.

I didn’t like what she said. The last thing I wanted back then was to start giving stuff up and start the  get-ready-to-die process any sooner than I had to. Nope. Subtraction was not for me

A writer pal of mine is into subtraction. He is Jeff Greenwald and he’s published a gorgeous book of gorgeous photos of miscellaneous objects. Some of the objects are also gorgeous. Some, not so much. The book is called “108 Objects: Letting Go of Stuff, Keeping Our Stories.”

Jeff claims to be ready to let go of his stuff. Not the memories they represent, just the things themselves and the effort it will take someone else to dispose of them once he’s gone.

I admired Jeff. I admired Ilene. I admired Jon’s godfather. So I decided to follow their examples. My New Year’s resolution for 2023 would be — do less this year, not more. Subtract!

With that, I systematically, cold-heartedly began my 2023 New Year’s non-resolution list. It would be a list of all the things I could consider refusing to do in 2023: The writing projects. The home improvement projects. The self-improvement projects.

But where to start?

• Ditch the upstairs bathroom remodel? Yes, it’s a daunting, expensive, time-consuming job. Let it go!

But the bathroom’s 1950s galvanized pipes are clogged, so the tub-shower doesn’t work any more. Replacing those pipes requires ripping out sheetrock. If I’m ripping out sheetrock, I might as well redo the whole bathroom.

• Forget the new front yard, and let the gardener redesign it? Yes, searching websites and plant nurseries for the right plant for the right spot takes days and weeks of time. Delegate this time-consuming job!

But where will the irises my friend gave me go? The azaleas? the Japanese anemones? The succulents from another friend’s wedding? A garden is a work of art. I want this to be my work of art, not someone else’s.

• Forget about getting Jon’s thriller novel published? Yes, whether it’s traditionally published or self-published, getting a book out there is an onerous, discouraging, close to full-time job.

But I love Jon. And he loved writing that book. He was getting ready to publish it himself when he died. I can’t let him down. 

The list of don’t-dos goes on and on: Replace the raggedy carpeting in the den. Lose fifteen pounds. Help organize our neighborhood’s National Night Out. Finish putting together a book of the essays I wrote for the Oakland Tribune back when the kids were young and cute, and so were Jon and I.

I ran down my to-do list. I considered each item. Not a single one could I bring myself to knock off the list. They all needed to be done. They just did.

So, what to do with my bright-eyed non-New Year’s resolution for 2023? I’ll do what I do with all my New Year’s resolutions. I’ll ignore it.